


Before A Word is Spoken

by metatiki (tklivory), tklivory



Series: Dragon Age: Spy Effect [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Disaster Bisexual Hawke, F/M, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Parent Death, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28471143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tklivory/pseuds/metatiki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tklivory/pseuds/tklivory
Summary: A chance meeting exactly when she needed it the most changes Herah Adaar's life forever--especially when she finds out that maybe the meeting wasn't due to chance after all.
Relationships: Female Adaar/Male Hawke, Female Adaar/Varric Tethras, Female Hawke & Varric Tethras, Male Hawke/Varric Tethras
Series: Dragon Age: Spy Effect [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066511
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: The Hanged Man Holiday Exchange 2020





	1. A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kosho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/gifts).



> This was written for a Secret Santa exchange. A parallel/companion fic I wrote for a second Secret Santa exchange fleshes out the backdrop for this story a bit more and can be found here: [Peruvian Whiskey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28210404). If you enjoy this AU, I also recommend the first part of the series I wrote last year, [Satinalia Surprise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876937).

Adaar ran through the abandoned warehouse, checking back over her shoulder every few seconds to see if her pursuers were still on her trail. The moonlight flashed through the windows at regular intervals, shining off the sweat running down her face as she pushed herself faster than she thought possible towards the far end. As she plowed into the door that she hoped would be her escape, she braced herself and sent a silent plea into the darkness, hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t locked.

It wasn’t but the small lock that had been put on the outside of the door burst only because she hadn’t slackened her pace. As it was, she ended up with a dislocated shoulder and sprained fingers as she staggered a few steps forward, then quickened her pace again. 

Behind her she heard distant cries of, “A door! She’s outside!” and cursed, knowing they would be on her trail sooner rather than later. She’d lost her only weapon, her dad’s buck knife, during the initial scuffle with her kidnappers, though honestly that was more a sentimental loss than anything. A knife couldn’t outrun a gun, after all, and they were well-armed. Her head turned as she took in as much of her surroundings as possible, redirecting her feet when she saw a possible solution.

The water tower was close enough to the fence of the facility that she might be able to leap over the electrified fence--but only if she gauged the jump just right. Still, it was her best bet--possibly her _only_ bet. With a grimace, she reached up to her shoulder, took a breath, and shoved it into place with an audible pop and a silent curse. Then, heart pounding, she clambered up the boards on the side of the ancient water tower opposite the hulking building from which she’d emerged, praying that the moonlight wasn’t bright enough for her potential kidnappers to see her. When she heard the door burst open again, she froze in place, three quarters of the way up the tower, and locked her eyes on the courtyard below.

Luck, it seemed, was with her, for none of the men who emerged from the warehouse looked up. The man in the lead, the one whose codename was Sten, gestured to his squad as he sent them around the sides of the building, leaving himself and one other to search in the immediate area. Slowly, with great care, she continued her ascent, watching the two below like a hawk as she made her way up and freezing whenever it seemed like they looked towards the tower. When she reached the top, she clung to the side of the holding vessel itself and took some time to recover her breath before half turning to measure the distance she would need to get over the fence. Her only saving grace in this situation was that Sten and his men didn’t have access to the gate controls, and would not be able to follow immediately. She’d still have to find a car on the other side, but it was still a better chance than getting taken back.

Although honestly, _anything_ was better than going back to Par Vollen. Even death.

Easing her way up farther, Adaar reached the top of the tower and turned around. It would need a combination of luck, skill, and over the top bravado to make this jump unscathed, and she suspected she’d probably emerge with a broken bone or two. As long as it wasn’t her legs, though, she could accept that risk. After some mental calculations and rapidly playing through a few scenarios, she nodded and closed her eyes to calm herself before committing to the leap.

_“Up there! On the tower!”_

_Fuck._ Well. It was now or never.

Tensing her muscles and crouching, she shoved herself off the water tower, ignoring the spray of bullets that hit the wood where she’d just been crouched. A dive, a twist, and a carefully timed tuck saw her land hard on the ground at the perfect angle. Using the momentum of the fall, she rolled a couple of times and then launched herself into a dead run, trying to ignore the bullets that struck at the ground near her feet as she ran. A sting in her arm told her that one of the bullets had found its mark, but then she was out of range and leaving them behind.

Ahead she saw road lights, spaced widely enough apart that she knew it was a country highway rather than the busy freeway she might have preferred. Regardless, she kept running towards it, ignoring the ache from the gunshot and the growing pain in one of her wrists that she was afraid to think too hard about.

 _Later._ She could worry about that later. Right now, she just had to survive.

By the time she hit the pavement of the road and slowed, her side ached from lack of air and her breath came in short, sharp pants that hurt with each intake of breath. For a moment her heart stopped as she looked to both sides and didn’t see any lights, but then she squinted. _Is that--_

Yes, it was a vehicle. A van, judging by the size of it, and running at night with no lights. Suspicious, she knew, but at the moment she had no alternative and no other hope. Setting off at a slow jog towards it, she raised her hands, trying to make herself as noticeable as possible. Coming to a halt directly under a light, she kept her hands high and hoped her higher-than-average height would be enough to compensate for her dark skin and clothing.

At first, as the van maintained its full speed, she worried that it hadn’t worked. Abruptly, however, she saw the van’s front dip forward as someone slammed their foot on the brakes, slowing until it came to a stop a few feet away.

A man’s head stuck out of the window. His hair was dark and his face was half covered with a short beard, though given the dim light it was hard to make out any other distinguishing feature. “Need a lift?”

“Please,” she said, trying to keep the trembling out of her voice.

“All right, hop in.” He jerked his thumb to the other door. “I _have_ to know what this is about.”

That made her smile as she lowered her arms and jogged towards the door, only then noticing that she’d tweaked one of her knees at some point. Pulling open the passenger door, she hauled herself into the seat, then grabbed the oh-shit bar as the van slammed into motion again, closing the car door with a slam.

Before the van had gone more than a few thousand feet, she saw the men on the side of the road ahead, and she braced herself. “Oh, shit,” she murmured.

“They after you?” the man asked.

She didn’t look at him, just nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. They’ll probably come after us.”

“Sounds like a fun night,” he said. When she turned to stare at him incredulously, he held out his hand. “The name’s Hawke. With an E. Very important.”

“Um...Adaar. With two A’s. Next to each other, I mean. Three total,” she said, giving his hand a shake that reminded her that her wrist was very displeased with her life choices.

“All right, um-Adaar. Let’s see what we can do about these guys. I assume they’ll have--ah, there we go.” As lights appeared behind them, he said, “Motorcycles. Right.” He reached back and banged on the metal partition separating the driver’s cab from the back of the van.

A panel slid aside to reveal brown eyes set in a pale face with blond hair. “What is it? I’m still cleaning things up after you--”

“Stop having phone sex with your boyfriend and get ready, Rutherford. We’ve got company,” Hawke snapped. “Motorcycles at 7, 9, and 10. Clear them out.”

The man’s eyes went flat. “Got it.” The panel slid closed again.

Adaar swallowed. _What have I gotten myself into?_ she wondered, then jumped as the unmistakable sound of gunfire erupted behind her. As the sounds of gun shots echoed back and forth, Hawke casually asked, “So what’s the ruckus, anyway?”

“Are you--” _kidding me,_ she _wanted_ to ask, but obviously if he was running a van this size at night with a customized metal plating around the cargo portion… Fuck, maybe this _was_ a normal night for him. “Well, those bastards jumped me down in Bastion and brought me up here for a handoff. I escaped and ran into you.”

Hawke grunted. “Sounds like Ben-hassrath work, then. Tallis tend not to do the actual jumping, they just find you.”

She stared at him for a moment, a bit shocked at how much he knew of the Qunari. “Probably.”

“Well, put your seatbelt on, anyway,” he told her. “Things are about to get a little creative on the driving side.”

Hastily she reached back and tugged down the seatbelt, noting the reinforced strap and three-way style right away. Reaching down between her legs to grab the last part, she clicked it into place and then looked at him. “Ready.”

“Good.” He banged the metal partition again. “Evasive maneuvers, Rutherford!”

“About damn time!” came the muffled reply.

Hawke laughed and then straightened as both of his hands landed on the wheel. “All right. Here we go!”

The next fifteen minutes counted as among the most terrifying of Adaar’s life, and that included the time her parents had stuffed her in a box at six years of age to toss onto a passing merchant ship to get her out of Par Vollen. After the first turnoff to a side road that she hadn’t even noticed, the van began swerving from side to side at a rapid pace. It took Adaar a couple of minutes to figure out that Hawke _was_ following the road, but at a speed that should have been suicidal. When she dared to look out the side window, her eyes widened when she saw that the right side of the road was, in fact, a sheer dropoff, and leaned back quickly in her seat as she squeezed her eyes shut.

 _Who the fuck_ is _this guy?_

After a while, the van slowed and rolled to a stop, and Hawke let out a whoop. “Oh, _man._ I’ve been wanting to do that for _years!”_

She didn’t open her eyes. In fact, she didn’t dare to loosen her white knuckle grip on her harness, which was all she’d been able to find to hang onto on the steepest curves. When she felt Hawke nudge her, she jumped in place with a small shriek.

Hawke laughed. “Hey, now. Don’t worry, you’re safe. All those motorcycles took a plunge over the side a few minutes ago. We’ll just rest a little bit, patch up your wounds, and figure out what we’re going to do with you.” When she instinctively reached up to prod her gunshot, Hawke nodded. “Yup. Noticed that. And, judging from the way you were walking, probably other things, too.”

“I…” Bereft of any real response, she instead bowed her head. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For everything.”

Hawke snorted. “Like I’d leave a pretty lady to fend for herself in the middle of nowhere.” When she blushed, he laughed. “So. Got anyone you can call that could help you out now that you’re out of the worst of it?”

Adaar furrowed her brow, running down her admittedly short list of _people with no ties to the Qun_ before she finally concluded that she had no other choice than to call the person she wanted to avoid the most. Still, no one else had the particular combination of connections, money, and sheer chutzpah to help her out of the situation she found herself in.

Unfortunately.

“Someone by the name of Varric Tethras,” she said. “He’s an old friend of--”

Hawke’s burst of laughter cut her short, and she stared at him as he visibly took control of himself to shift the laugh into a chuckle. “Varric, huh? I should have known. Don’t worry, I know how to get a hold of him. Now I _really_ want to know the whole story.” He wagged his finger at her, then touched a button that unlocked both her harness and the passenger door. “Go on to the back. Our med kit is there, and Rutherford’s patched up enough of his own gunshot wounds to take care of yours easily. I’ll get a hold of Varric in the meantime.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then shook herself out of her daze and numbly obeyed his instructions. As Rutherford tended to her wounds with a sort of gruff gentleness that seemed at odds with the scars on his face, Adaar fought against the haze of adrenaline shock long enough to try to puzzle together just how far off the rails her life had gone in just one night, and how long it would take to right it.

Or even if she _wanted_ it to.

* * *

After Cullen sent her on her way, Adaar took a moment to herself in the chill of the night to take a deep breath and ponder her life choices. When that didn’t help, she reached up and touched her left horn, then took a deep breath and twisted it off, peeking inside to make sure the precious contents hadn’t been taken by the Sten while she was unconscious. The glint deep inside reassured her, and she quickly screwed the horn back into place, ran her finger over it once more to make sure the seam was invisible, then moved towards the van.

It was time to talk to Hawke, _before_ they were in motion again.

She frowned when she saw he wasn’t in the cab, looking around until she saw a silhouette some yards away, leaning against one of the trees around the rest area. Hurrying over, she didn’t really _try_ to be silent until she saw that he held a phone in front of him, the screen brightly lit in the night. At that point, curiosity overcame her and she shifted the way she walked until her steps were nearly silent. After all, she’d already been ambushed this week. She wasn’t sure she fully trusted _anyone_ at this point. Best to get an idea of what he was doing before she let him see her.

As she moved closer, she heard Hawke say, “She’s fine, Varric. Trust me, I got this.”

Adaar’s heart skipped a beat when she heard an explosive sigh she recognized come from the phone, realizing that Hawke was talking to Varric on a video call. “Thanks, Hawke. I owe you.”

“You always owe me,” Hawke said, his grin audible. “How many times have I pulled your fat out of the fire now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Varric said, and Adaar smiled. She recognized that tone, and hearing him use it with Hawke made her feel more inclined to trust the latter. “So, you still planning to take her to your safe house?”

 _Safe house?_ Adaar’s ears perked forward as Hawke replied in a suddenly serious voice, “If what you told me is true, it’s probably the best place for her until your contacts can figure out who wants her badly enough to send an I&E team after her.”

Adaar’s eyes widened. Not many people would be able to recognize an Infiltration and Extraction team on sight, and to be able to identify them during as hectic a situation as he’d seen since picking up Adaar… She had to admit to being impressed, and re-evaluated her estimation of Hawke from _cute and skilled_ to _cute and useful._ As Hawke continued to speak, she jerked her attention back to her eavesdropping. “Is that why Isabela suddenly disappeared last week?”

“Done in one,” Varric replied. “And it was Rivaini who told me that someone was going to make a move for Adaar yesterday, but when I called her she’d changed her number.”

Adaar winced. She’d changed her number months ago so that Sten and his associates couldn’t track her down, but had put off calling Varric with the new number for reasons that now seemed rather silly. After all, it was clear he was still keeping an eye on her, and she smiled. _Even after that last fight we had…_

“How far up does this go, anyway?” Hawke asked. “I&E teams aren’t just sent out on a whim.”

“No, they aren’t,” Varric said in a grim tone. “Rivaini will figure it out.”

“Maybe we could send Rutherford in to help,” Hawke suggested.

There was a pause before Varric suddenly laughed. “You sly dog. You just want to be alone with Adaar.”

“Well, she _is_ pretty,” Hawke protested. “You didn’t mention that when you called me to pick her up.”

Adaar’s hand flew to her mouth to cover her gasp. _Varric had sent Hawke after her?_ The thought both angered and warmed her, leaving her a bit confused as to how she actually felt about it.

“Well, take it easy with her,” Varric warned. “Her last boyfriend didn’t treat her nearly as well as she deserves. He was a bit of a bastard, if I’m to be honest.”

Now tears pricked at Adaar’s eyes, and she had to swallow hard as her throat suddenly felt thick. _Oh, Varric…_

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hawke said. “So. Rutherford?”

“Nah.” Varric said. “He’s the Unseen Hand who took down the last Arishok and his crew, remember? If even one person recognized him, there’d be hell to pay. No, I prefer subtle.”

“Good point. He _does_ have a bit of a reputation on Par Vollen, doesn’t he?” Hawke mused even as Adaar pressed her other hand over her mouth at the shocking revelation. News of the fall of the Arishok had rocked the world of the Qunari and Vashoth alike, and trying to match up the towering figure in her head responsible for the monumental feat with the weary, oddly gentle warrior who had patched up her wounds made her head reel. All the rumors and urban legends about the Divine’s personal assassin-trained priest reared in her head before she clamped down on them as Hawke kept talking to Varric. “Isabela will need backup, though.”

Varric grunted. “I know. I’m going to send in Zevran to help her. His specialties are infiltration and sabotage, so it seems a good fit.”

“And they can have a good fuck after the job is finished,” Hawke added.

“That might have been part of the equation, yes,” Varric said blandly.

Hawke barked a laugh. “I’m sure Isabela will appreciate it. So when are you coming out here?”

“Me?” Varric replied, sounding as surprised as Adaar felt.

“Yes, you,” Hawke said firmly. “You went to a lot of trouble to make sure she’s safe and sound and you don’t want to see her? Besides, I haven’t seen you since last Satinalia.” Hawke chuckled, and his next words were in a much lower pitch. “And I _know_ you enjoyed that visit.”

“Dammit, Hawke,” Varric muttered. “You promised you wouldn’t talk about that any more.” As Adaar puzzled over that, Varric added, “Besides, I thought you didn’t like guests in your safe house?”

“I’ll already have one, so why not two?” Hawke asked with a one-shouldered shrug. 

“Let me get this straight. Are you, Garrett Hawke, asking me, Varric Tethras, to actually come to your home? To invade your sacred sanctorum? To probe your private palace? To delve into your--”

“Yeah, yeah, all that jazz,” Hawke said. “So? You coming or not?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Varric admitted. Adaar instantly could tell that he _had_ thought about it, and hadn’t decided yet, and apparently Hawke heard it in Varric’s voice too.

“Come on, Varric, we both know that’s not true,” Hawke chided him. “Adaar obviously means a lot to you. Besides, maybe she could use a friend right now.”

Adaar sighed silently and looked down at her hands as her fingers twined together. After all, her relationship with Varric was _complicated._

There was a long silence from Varric before she heard him sigh as well. “Look, with Adaar, it’s...it’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated with you, Varric,” Hawke said, clearly amused. “Besides, that’s a state of being for you, not an excuse.”

“Look, Hawke--” Varric began but Hawke quickly interrupted him.

“So you coming or not?” When Varric still hesitated, Hawke added, “I could ask Rutherford to spend a few days with his boyfriend.”

Varric laughed at that. “They still going at it?”

 _“Andraste’s knickers,_ yes,” Hawke said with a short laugh. “Good thing he lives nearby, considering how often Cullen ends up sleeping over there anyway. Though I’ll admit, Pavus can probably afford better beds than we can. I prefer it to coming up with some sort of elaborate sock-on-the-doorknob code to know when not to interrupt him when they’re trying to break beds.”

“Maker, Hawke, it was only the one--” Varric began, then stopped as Hawke burst into laughter.

Adaar stared at Hawke, an inevitable flush spreading over her face as she caught the full implication of that aborted sentence. _Hawke and...Varric? Breaking beds?_ The thought seemed almost inconceivable, but… She licked her lips. _Oh, my._

“Shut up,” Varric muttered, adding a few choice words that Adaar couldn’t quite hear. “Fine. I’ll be there. Give me a couple of days to wrap things up here first, though. Want me to bring you anything?”

“You’re in Antiva, right?” Hawke asked. “Brandy. You know the kind I like.”

“That I do.” Varric’s voice abruptly turned more brusque. “I’ll text you the details once I’ve booked a plane. See you soon.”

“Sounds good.” Hawke’s thumb rose to hover over the screen. “Oh, and Varric?”

“Yeah?”

Hawke cleared his throat, then said, his voice oddly husky, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Before Varric could reply, Hawke’s thumb hit the disconnect button, and he slipped the phone in his pocket. Without turning around, he asked, “So you going to stand there all night?”

Adaar started and gasped, straightening where she stood as Hawke turned to her with a grin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

Waving her silent, Hawke said, “That’s all right. You would have figured it out anyway, I’m sure.” He pulled a small bag from one bag that rustled and held it out to her. “Sweet?”

She smiled and stepped forward. “Yes, thank you. My throat’s a bit sore.”

“Given what condition I found you, that’s understandable.” Hawke poured a couple of plastic wrapped pieces of candy from the bag, then held one out to her.

As they took it, their fingers brushed together. Adaar knew she probably shouldn’t have even noticed it, but there was something about Hawke that made her fingers tingle as their skin touched. Snatching her hand back, she deftly unwrapped the candy and popped it in her mouth, avoiding his gaze until the odd sensation passed. “Thank you. For helping me, I mean. Not just for the candy.”

“Well, as you heard, Varric sent me. Or rather, Varric sent me information about a Qunari I&E team incoming for a target. I’d have found you sooner, but they brought some Tallis with them, and they delayed us long enough that we couldn’t stop the ambush. Luckily, one of the Tallis knew where they were taking you.”

“I’m surprised they told you,” Adaar said, looking up at him.

Hawke flashed her a tight smile. “Sometimes it pays to have an ex-assassin as a partner.”

Adaar swallowed and nodded, looking nervously back in the direction of the van. “He seems...competent.”

“He’s more than that, and not really by choice,” Hawke said in a flat tone. “I’m just glad he’s left it all behind. He sometimes acts like he’s got a broom up his ass, but he’s a good man.”

“You mean aside from all the...the Unseen Hand things?”

“And partly because of them, I suppose. You can learn just as much by fucking it up than by doing it right,” Hawke said. “I trust him now, though.”

Feeling a bit ashamed at her knee-jerk reaction, Adaar looked back at Hawke. “So how do you know Varric, anyway?”

“Oh, we go way back,” Hawke said. “I was in college and needed some cash, and he was an up-and-coming, ah, _entrepreneur_ who needed warm bodies for a few tasks that needed some discretion.”

Adaar snorted. “Smuggling or fencing?”

“I probably should plead ignorance,” he told her with a wink. “Anyway, he was always well connected even back then, so it was a lucrative sideline. And I didn’t really end up doing much with my degree.”

“In what, underwater basket weaving?” she teased him.

“Not quite as useful as that, no,” Hawke said with a grin. “Of course, after that the war started, and shit happened, so my life changed course anyway. Now...now I work for hire, though I’ve been in the business long enough that I can be fairly selective about who I work for.”

Since she knew all too well about how uncomfortable it could be in that business for someone who couldn’t afford to be _selective,_ she just nodded. “So you know him pretty well, then.”

Hawke gave her a sloppy grin. “You could say that. Come on, let’s head back to the van. I’ve got some drinks there, that should help your throat, too.”

“I could use a drink,” she said with some relief. It had been a while since she’d eaten or drank anything, now that she thought about it. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Just assume I’ll take care of you,” he said with a wink.

 _Don’t blush, don’t blush,_ Adaar told herself sternly, breathing a silent sigh of relief when Hawke faced forward again. “Tha--Ah. Right. Yes.”

He chuckled. “All right, so how about you?”

“How about me what?” she asked, brow furrowing.

“You and Varric,” Hawke said, tugging the driver’s door open and leaning into the van. “How’d you two meet?”

Trying not to stare too obviously at Hawke’s distinctly fine ass, Adaar focused instead on the question. “Ah, my mentor was an old friend of his,” she explained. [[think on this part and put it in later]]

“Hmm, don’t think Varric ever mentioned them,” Hawke said, pulling out of the cab and popping open the bottle using the crack between the door and body of the van before holding it out to her. “Peanut butter ale.”

She raised an eyebrow as she took it. “Peanut butter ale,” she repeated. “Really?”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t make it,” Hawke said with a grin as he popped the lid of his own bottle off. “If it’s good, I’ll drink it, and this is _good.”_

“What about Rutherford?” she asked, looking to the back of the van.

“Probably still finishing up his phone sex,” Hawke said with a shrug.

As Adaar giggled, the panel to the back of the van slid open so the occupant could growl, “I’m still cleaning up the mess back here. No organizational system in the world could withstand your driving over the last hour.”

“Oh. Right.” As the panel slammed closed, Hawke looked guilty. “We should probably go help him.”

“We?” Adaar protested.

“Hey, I was driving to save your ass. You can help us fix all the gear that got kerfuffled along the way.”

For some reason, his use of the word _kerfuffled_ seemed to be the trigger for a sudden release of tension, and she burst into laughter, bending over to gasp for breath when the laughter didn’t stop after a reasonable amount of time. Eventually she felt Hawke pound her back and then pull her torso up, and she inhaled a huge breath as she tried to get herself under control.

“That’s it, breathe,” Hawke said, sounding a bit worried. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, just…” She giggled, turning to look at him where he stood next to her. _“Kerfuffled.”_

“Oh. Well. I do have a way with words sometimes, I suppose. Usually people are a bit more drunk when they laugh like that about them, though.” He shrugged, then patted her back again. “Feel better?”

She nodded, clearing her throat a couple of times before she managed, “Ah, yes. Much better, actually.”

“I guess you needed a good laugh.” He reached over and tapped his bottle against hers. “To the start of a beautiful friendship?”

Her smile turned a bit shy, she knew, but she nodded. “That sounds good.”

“Good.” He gave her a wink, then set the bottle to his lips.

Following his lead, she drank a hefty sip from the bottle, her eyebrows going up as the taste filled her mouth. “Huh. You’re right. It _is_ good.”

“See? Now you know you can trust me,” he said with a laugh. “Now come on, before Rutherford explodes in a righteous burst of fury.”

She giggled again, taking another swig of ale as she followed him to the back of the van. The laugh really _had_ done her good, releasing tension and reminding her of the absurdity of the situation, and the ale, she could tell, would also help with that. It was strong, but delicious.

Even if it _was_ peanut butter ale.


	2. A Client's Needs

The ride to Hawke’s ‘safe house’, as he’d described it, took another few hours. They spent the first two chatting while he offered her a couple more ales and some snacks that were in the cab of the van, though she was relieved to note that he drank only water after that first ale.  _ Crazy _ didn’t have to mean  _ stupid, _ after all. Still, she was exhausted by the time they made what he promised was the last turn, as a night of no sleep combined with the normal aftereffects of an adrenaline burn to make her sleepy--and the ale wasn’t really helping her with that.

Her yawns had been growing in frequency over the past hour or so, but the one she gave as they slowed at a gate made her jaw crack. “Owwww,” she complained as she reached up to rub her jaw.

“Almost there,” he said. “Let me just…” He pulled a small device out of his pocket and pointed it at the gate, which obediently beeped and began to open. “Just the drive to the house is left.”

She peered at the fence, which on first glance  _ looked _ rundown and worn. Still, it was hard to think that once it was in motion, given the smooth motion and clean metal that showed at the hinges as it slowly opened. “You...you made the fence ugly?” she blurted.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her, as if impressed. “Very good. Most people don’t notice that.” When she blushed and looked away, he chuckled. “This is an area known for its sovereign citizens,” he explained. “People who have sworn off the government and keep their addresses as secret as possible.”

“The road was fairly bumpy in that last stretch,” she noted.

“I want to blend in with the crowd,” he said with a wink. Once there was room, he navigated the van through the gate, then used the device to make it close. “Sorry, just want to make sure no one follows us in.”

“No, no, go ahead,” she said quickly. “I get it.” 

The panel to the back of the van slid open, and Rutherford’s brown eyes looked out. “Take me to the garage first.”

Hawke grinned as he glanced back. “Going to your boyfriend’s, are we?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes,” Rutherford said with a chuckle. “It’s been a few days. At least you’re not in the hospital this time.”

“You mean at least you won’t have phone sex while you’re in the same room as me,” Hawke shot back.

Adaar’s jaw dropped, and she giggled. “No! He  _ didn’t!” _

“He most certainly did, and it was  _ hot,” _ Hawke said with a grin.

“You only wish I’d do it again,” Rutherford shot back. “Anyway, since our next job isn’t for a couple of weeks, I thought Dorian and I might take a trip. He’s got vacation time saved up, after all.”

“Sounds good. You’ve earned it, after all.” Hawke guided the van down a windy road. As they turned one corner, a modest, slightly rundown, house appeared in front of them, with two other buildings nearby that she took to be a storage shed and a detached garage. Hawke drove them to the larger of the two outbuildings first. “All right, here you are.”

Rutherford nodded, sliding the panel closed. The van rocked as he exited and slammed the door shut behind him, and he appeared next to Hawke’s door. “Thanks. I’ll text you to let you know when I’ll be back.”

“Sounds good.” Hawke suddenly reached out and pulled Rutherford into a brief, heated kiss, grinning when the man glared at him after. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That’s a very short list,” Rutherford replied with a grin, then turned and headed to the garage, which opened to reveal two cars parked next to each other.

“What about clothes?” Adaar asked, puzzled, as Hawke turned the wheel of the van and headed to the house.

“He’s practically claimed a closet at Dorian’s house,” Hawke said with a shrug. “They’ve been together for almost a year now, so it’s not surprising.”

“I see.” As Hawke drove the van around to the back of the house, her brow furrowed. “I don’t see another garage.”

“There isn’t one,” Hawke said with a wink. “Watch.”

He tapped one of the radio buttons, and suddenly the wall of the house shivered and juddered before slowly sinking into the ground. Adaar gasped. “What? But--”

“It’s a nice enough house, I suppose, but it’s not very safe,” Hawke said with a shrug. “I’ve bought some pretty hefty equipment over the years, and I needed a better place to keep it. So I have...a Hawke Cave.”

She gave a tired giggle. “Hawke Cave? Do you have a utility belt, too?”

“Damn straight I do,” he replied with aplomb. By this time the wall had disappeared, and he eased the van forward into the empty space behind it. Once they were completely inside, he touched the button, then patted her thigh. “All right. While that closes, I’ll show you around the top part of the house. You know. The sunny bit.”

“The sun isn’t up yet,” she pointed out, but he was already pushing his door open and hopping out. With a sigh, she followed suit, but immediately winced and grabbed the door to give her something to anchor herself with.  _ “Shit.” _

And Hawke was just  _ there, _ catching her and lifting her up on her feet again. “You all right?” he asked, brows pinching together.

“Just...four ales, a long-due adrenaline crash, and sitting for hours with a twisted knee...It adds up,” she said sheepishly. “My body just isn’t happy with me right now.”

“Hmm, pity,” Hawke murmured. “Well, if it’s any help,  _ I’m _ happy with your body right now.”

Her ears burned, but she couldn’t help but giggle as he made a point to ogle her breasts in an obviously exaggerated fashion. After all, they were practically eye level for him. “Stop it,” she said, but there was no sting to it, and the giggle definitely lacked the power of authority.

“Yes, ser,” he said with a grin, releasing her and stepping back. “Try to walk to me.”

She did, she truly did, but the world swam around her in a rather unhelpful manner after the first step, and soon she found herself tilting again. As Hawke quickly caught her and hauled her back up, she sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this--”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve been worse myself after a good bender,” he assured her. Hitching his arm around her waist, he guided her away from the van, kicking the door closed behind him before nodding to what was clearly an elevator nearby. “Let’s go.”

Just then the wall of the ‘house’ finished closing with a  _ thunk, _ and she jumped as some dim lights turned on. “Oh!”

“Yeah, it can get really dark in here without those,” Hawke said. “Come on, let’s get you downstairs, and I can take you to your bedroom.” He helped her over to the elevator and tapped the button to open it. 

As they squeezed in, she was made very much aware of how  _ close _ he was, given the elevator wasn’t made for size, and tried not to think about how close his head was to her breasts. “An elevator, huh?” she asked, trying to distract herself.

“You try hauling hundreds of pounds of equipment up and down the stairs before and after a mission,” he said. “Some of it we keep in the van or near it, but some of it needs calibration and tinkering with in between missions. So...elevator. Because I like my back not to hate me.”

“That might be a problem, yes,” she said solemnly, then laughed and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “Sorry. I might be a bit tipsy.”

“I gotta admit, it’s cute,” Hawke said. “But you’re going to hate me in the morning already because of the hangover you might have, and I’m not about to pile on more sins on top of that by being an ass. Which reminds me, we should get some more water into you.” 

She blushed, unsure if it was because he was tempted to be inappropriate or because she was disappointed that he had decided not to be. “That sounds like a good idea,” she said hastily, tipping her head away so he wouldn’t see her blush.

The elevator came to a halt, and Hawke opened the safety screen and helped her inside. “The kitchen’s close,” he promised. “We’ll pump some water down your throat and then tip you into bed, and you’ll sleep like the dead until you wake up. Who knows? Maybe Varric will be here by then.”

Her blush deepened. “Yeah.”  _ Varric. _ Memories of their last week together swirled in her head, and she bit her lower lip as she closed her eyes and tried to push them away again. It really didn’t matter now, either the good times they’d had or the last argument which had torn it all to shreds. The fact he still cared enough about her to not only keep an ear underground about her but also to hire a clearly expensive merc to save her when she needed it… Tears welled up for a moment, and she quickly reached up to bat them away.

“Something wrong?” Hawke asked in a light tone. 

“I’m fine, really,” she said hastily. “Just...just tired.”

“Uh huh. Well, water then bed,” he said, flicking on the lights as they passed into the kitchen.

She looked around, unsurprised to find a kitchen of steel and grey and white around her, with very few personal touches. At least it was  _ clean, _ which was better than most bachelor pads she’d seen. The thought made her pause, though, and she bit her lip to stop herself from asking about the question burning in her mind. After all, just because Rutherford’s boyfriend wasn’t Hawke didn’t mean Hawke didn’t have someone. “Very...functional.”

Hawke grunted. “It works, it’s easy to keep clean, and all my food is cooked nicely.” He helped her sit in a tall stool with a back, then moved around the kitchen to get a glass and fill it with water. “And I can at least use my degree while I’m in here.”

She blinked, then took another look around the kitchen, realizing that it wasn’t just functional, it was  _ devoted _ to the function of a kitchen. Knives arrayed neatly, multiple stovetops, a double--no, triple oven… “You were in culinary school?” she ventured.

“Done in one,” he said as he set the glass and a pitcher of water on the counter next to her. “Not an  _ obvious _ way to get to the life I have now, but I’ve never run into a kitchen that was run  _ entirely _ above board. Besides, it was sort of a last gasp at a sensible career.  _ Hoodlum _ is fun, but it didn’t really pay the bills.”

She smiled and took the glass. “Somehow I think there’s a little more to it than that.”

“Maybe, but I haven’t even known you for a full day yet,” he said, flashing her a grin. “Ask me again in a week.”

“Done,” she said, then tipped her head back to gulp down the water. A few glasses later, she actually felt a bit more coherent, if a bit sloshy. “That’s better,” she breathed, setting the glass down.

“Impressive. Good thing both my guest suites have a bathroom attached, though.” He stood from where he’d been sitting and held out his hand. “Ready?”

She nodded and took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. Her knee still buckled a bit, though, and when she tried to overcorrect, her grumbly ankle protested, and before she knew it, Hawke was supporting her as she tried to get her rebellious body under control. Their arms automatically wrapped around each other as they fought to right her ship, given how much taller she was than him, until finally she was able to stand without swaying.

Of course, once the crisis had passed, she was acutely aware of the way his head had wedged between her breasts. He pulled back quickly, but not before she’d felt his hot breath warm her skin. She blushed, but when he looked up, she found she couldn’t help but meet his gaze. Distantly she was aware that her fingers were toying with his hair, and when his eyes broke contact with hers to look at her lips, she couldn’t help but slowly moisten them with the tip of her tongue.

“Not a good idea,” he breathed.

“Probably.”

“I mean, we just met,” he said. “And I’m only supposed to protect you, not…” He paused and licked his lips as his eyes rose again. “Damn. I never realized how sexy a taller woman can be.”

Her heart thudded in her chest as she leaned down a bit. “Oh?”

“Oh, yeah.” Hawke smiled. “Maybe...maybe just a kiss would be fine, right?”

“Just a kiss,” she murmured, then closed her eyes as he reached up and pulled her down until their lips met.

_ Oh, fuck. He’s good at this, too. _ Her hands tightened their hold in his hair as he deepened the kiss, devouring her slowly and thoroughly until she felt warm all over. One of his hands dropped to rest on her waist, then slowly rose as the kiss lengthened, until his thumb came to rest daringly close to her breast. When he broke it off, she found herself panting heavily, not looking away from the now intense look in his eyes. “Oh.”

Hawke licked his lower lip slowly as his thumb dug into her soft curves for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and settled both of his hands on her hips. “One kiss,” he repeated.

“One kiss.” She straightened, then giggled softly as his eyes automatically dropped to  _ his _ natural level. “You’d better get me to my room.”

“At this point I think I’ll just shove you in and close the door behind you,” he muttered, then groaned as he stepped back, leaving only one arm around her waist to help her walk. “Now.”

She didn’t really notice any details of the rest of the house as he took her to her suite, all too aware of his hand and the way it kept starting to slide down and then jerk back up as if he were waging a constant battle not to fondle her ass. It was maddening, flattering, and distracting, but also overwhelmingly a  _ bad idea. _ Or at least so she kept telling herself.

When they finally reached her room, she was fairly wound up from the tension--enough that she had already decided she’d have to take care of it before she could sleep. Luckily, she had the perfect mental spank bank to help her now, and no regrets using it as she suspected the reverse would be true for him.

“Well,” he said as he gently pushed her into the room. “Bathroom’s to the right. Bed’s right there. Spare set of pajamas on the pillow. Good night.” And then the bastard actually  _ smirked. _ “Sweet dreams.”

She glared at him, but he had already grinned and reached for the door handle to pull it shut. Grumbling to herself, she locked the door, then limped to the bed and shimmied out of her clothes before limping to the bathroom to start a bath.

Luckily, the shower also had a vibrating shower head. After all, she was so tired that any little help would be appreciated.

Once she fell into a slumber, however, the giddiness she’d felt when tipsy and horny faded away, and the nightmares returned.

_ The phone jangling in the night, pulling her from Varric’s arms. The harsh sound of her father’s breathing on the other end, begging for her to come save him. Finding his bullet-riddled body at the bottom of the cliff, only for him to revive long enough to give her the weight of the world on her shoulders and send her away so she wouldn’t have to see him shoot himself before the Sten found him. The arguments with Varric later when she wouldn’t tell him the details, believing that she was protecting him, until that last, final fight when he told her to leave the dead in the past and focus on the living, then stormed out and left her alone with all eyes in the restaurant staring accusingly at her for ruining their evening. _

_ When the nightmare twisted reality and turned the server into the Sten come to finish the job of killing her, she almost welcomed it. _

_ Almost. _

In reality, she always jerked awake, her hand pressed to her chest where the dream bullets penetrated, choking as she fought back the panic attack that stole her breath and shook her body. By the time she managed to push all that aside, she knew she was far too awake to try to get to sleep again.

With a groan she rolled out of bed and to her feet, rising to a long stretch before absently smoothing her hair away from her horns and into a neater queue. She knew she would still look mussed, but not horrible when she went to get some more water from the kitchen. Thankfully the sleep had been good for her knee, leaving it sore but not nearly as compromised as before. 

Slipping out of the room, she padded on silent feet down the corridor, hoping she remembered the right way to the kitchen. When she didn’t find it within a couple of minutes, she frowned and turned around. When she couldn’t find it again, or her own room, she groaned softly and pressed her hands to her face. “This was a bad idea.”

As she stood there, a faint sound came to her ears, and she paused, trying to figure out what it was. Once it became very  _ clear _ what it was, her cheeks darkened with a flush. Unfortunately, it  _ also _ drew her like a magnet to a lodestone, and before she knew it, she was following the sound down a main corridor that branched off the one she’d been heading down. 

_ How big is this place anyway?  _ she huffed.

As she rounded a corner following the sound, a movement caught her by surprise, and before she knew it, she had flattened herself against the wall, heart pounding in her throat as she started to wonder how they could have found her  _ here.  _ When she peeked around the corridor, however, she rolled her eyes and smacked her forehead when she saw it was just her reflection in a large mirror in the hallway.

“Weird place for a mirror,” she muttered to herself as she rounded the corner and headed down the corridor, slowing as she got a good look at herself. Her eyes automatically rose to make sure her horn wasn’t loose, but once she saw the seam wasn’t showing, her eyes moved down to consider the rest of her in the mirror. “Well, shit,” she said, since being under the influence of Varric led to learning several impossible-to-break habits. This time, however, it wasn’t because there was a gun pointed at her, or a knife, or even a fist. Instead, she’d forgotten in her fog of waking up that she wasn’t in her normal sleeping outfit, a comfy t-shirt and flannel boxers--something Varric had teased her about even as he flagrantly took advantage of the ability to slip his hand through the slit whenever he wanted.

No, she was wearing whatever had been left on the pillow which, now that she was really  _ looking, _ was clearly made for a human. Flannel was definitely  _ not _ an element, nor were sleeves or pants legs. The house was warm enough that she hadn’t noticed how brief the outfit was, but as she took in the tight crop top and booty shorts combo that left her middle exposed, there was really only one way to describe the whole.

“Dammit, this is a fuck-me outfit,” she said with a sigh. She didn’t really think Hawke meant anything by it, since it had been left for any guest, and maybe there had been another option that she’d missed in her weary state, but… She pursed her lips and twisted in front of the mirror. “I do look good, though.” 

When the sound she’d heard before suddenly got louder almost as if in response to that, however, she jumped and crossed her arms over her chest, blushing furiously as the obvious sounds of carnal moaning echoed in the hallway. Just before she was afraid she was about to walk into an orgy, however, the sound abruptly cut off as she heard Hawke’s weary voice ask, “All right, what’s up?”

Curious now, and refusing to admit that she knew that curiosity would eat her alive if she didn’t find out more details, Adaar crept forward on tired feet as the conversation continued, finding that it led her to a door left ajar only a few feet away. Peering through, she saw Hawke lying on his side, his back to the door, as he tossed a phone up and down in one hand. 

The irritated voice coming out of the phone’s speaker seemed almost aware of the cavalier attitude with which Hawke was treating the call as he snapped, “Why are you watching porn?”

_ Ah ha! I knew it, _ she thought triumphantly, trying to ignore the fact that just a moment ago, she’d been convinced it was actually happening in Hawke’s bedroom.

“Because,” Hawke replied, snatching the phone out of the air so he could talk into it directly, “Isabela’s not here and there’s a beautiful woman sleeping down the hall who I was stupid enough to kiss and smart enough to send to her bed without me.” He sighed and threw himself flat on his back on the bed, and Adaar’s eyes widened as she saw that he was naked. Naked and...ready. Definitely ready. Extremely ready.

_ Why is my mouth dry all of a sudden? _

“Adaar?” the man asked in an amused tone. “I thought she was a client.”

“She is,” Hawke replied, looking like he had eaten several raw cranberries with no sugar.

Adaar abruptly recognized the voice.  _ Cullen _ .  _ So he’s not back yet? _

“And you told me--”

Hawke sighed and chimed in to help Cullen finish. “--”to never sleep with clients. I know.  _ Maker _ , do I know. But she’s so damn fucking gorgeous.”

Adaar listened with burning ears and cheeks as Hawke listed a few things he liked about her, mind buzzing with the words so loudly that she barely heard the rest of the conversation. She’d never heard anyone describe her that way, with complete and utter admiration. Varric would try, but he was a writer for his day job, and she knew all too well that his compliments often either came from or ended up in his books. But Hawke’s assessment was just… Well it was…

Basic. Direct. Honest.  _ Attractive. _

But he was right, She was his client. Besides, they’d only met less than 12 hours ago. Probably. Unless she’d slept through until morning and she couldn’t tell because she couldn’t find clocks  _ or _ windows in this place.

Suddenly she jumped as the sound of the porn movie started again, her eyes drawn inside before she could stop to think that it would be a foolish idea because…

Well, because she saw exactly what she expected to see: Hawke’s eyelids closed and a cocky smile on his face as his hand stroked and squeezed his eager length. She bit her lower lip almost to the point of bleeding as his fingers stroked down from tip to base, then went father, a guttural groan telling her just where his fingers had gone.

_ Herah, _ she said sternly to herself, eyes fixated as Hawke’s fingers started to move in and out,  _ what would your mother say if she caught you watching a man pleasure himself while thinking of you? _ The answer, of course, could never be fully answered, given what had been done to her birth mother after they’d learned that Adaar had been shipped out of the country without permission. Her aunt, who was her  _ real _ Mom as far as Adaar was concerned, would probably say…

A painful blush came ot Adaar’s far as she realized what her Mom  _ would _ say:  _ Stop watching and get doing. _

In all honesty, it didn’t really seem like Hawke needed any help from her anyway. His other hand had come into play, wrapping around his cock as Hawke lost himself in the moment more and more. Adaar swallowed, her mouth  _ very _ dry now, and wondered if she could ever be brave enough to actually walk in.

But...no, she’d heard Hawke say it himself. He found her attractive, but wouldn’t risk sex for a whole host of reason, all tied to the fact that she was a client, not a friend or a girlfriend.

When he suddenly moaned her name, however, it remained difficult to keep latched on to the fact, especially as she felt her earlier arousal rising once more before the new situation. She’d tried her best to tend to  _ all _ her needs before, but there was just something incredibly arousing about watching a handsome man clearly enjoying a fantasy featuring her.

She wasn’t sure when her hands slipped down the front of her booty shorts, or when she brushed up against the door, but when the door gave a loud creaking sound to alert that it had moved, she instantly realized her error. Hawke went from relaxed and seemingly on the cusp of release to dangerous mercenary, the sound of his door opening unexpectedly galvanizing him to reach under his pillow and pull out what lay beneath to point at her.

And, as she stared at him and the gun nozzle aimed at her, she realized she really,  _ really _ shouldn’t have been  _ that _ turned on by it. But she was, and it was hard to hide the little moan that escaped her as her thighs squeezed together.

His eyes widened as he took in not just her identity, but her condition, and her eyes dropped down to fix on his needy erection. “I--I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“You really shouldn’t wander around this place at night,” he said with a tight chuckle. “You’re lucky I was too distracted to set my normal set of precautions.” When her eyes widened, he added hastily, “Oh, you wouldn’t have been hurt, but you definitely would have been all tied up.”

Closing her eyes, she let that image--or at least another image of  _ being tied up _ wash over her, and she shuddered. “Yeah, this is...embarrassing enough.”

When she heard a heavy clink, she opened his eyes to find him staring at her, the hunger clear in his gaze as it studied every inch of her body. “I completely agree.” He suddenly pulled back his gun and touched a button, popping out the magazine which he lay on the night stand, then popped the one already primed to shoot out with a quick tug on the gun. Once that was done, he pointed the gun at the door. “Whoever you are, you’d better get in here so I can make sure you understand the rules of the house.”

Her eyes widened at this sudden shift, but she had to admit to an extra little thrill as she nudged her way through the door, only dimly aware of the creak this time. “Yes, ser,” she said, raising her hands to place on her head. As she did, the short crop top hitched upwards, revealing more than a hint of her breasts.

His eyes widened, and she noticed the little flick as they lingered for a moment on the newly revealed soft curves. Even distracted, however, he quickly raised the gun so it wasn’t pointing at her and reset the safety as he set it on his nightstand. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I’ve had a couple close calls in the past.”

“Oh, no, you definitely caught me red-handed,” she told him, taking another step into the room with a slow sway of her hips. The way his eyes drank in the sight of her made her feel warm all over, in a way she hadn’t felt since Varric had ended it with her. “And you never know what I might be packing. Maybe you’d better search me just to be sure.”

A gleam entered his eyes as he met her gaze, and a tingle of anticipation surged through her as a slow, wicked smile came to his face. “You’re right. One can’t be too cautious during a home invasion.”

_ Oh, thank fuck. He gets it. _ It had been  _ so _ long… “So what will you--”

He suddenly surged from the bed, going from lazily smirking to pressed close in one movement. One of his hands caught her wrists and held them together while his other hand wrapped around her waist tightly, rendering her temporarily helpless. Quickly he pushed her back into the door, pinning her there in a hold that compensated for her greater height and reach. For a long moment he kept them that way, his breath hot on her nipples as he stared up at her, and she felt his hard length pressing against her thigh. “What will I do to you?”

She swallowed and nodded, wondering if he could hear the thudding in her chest. 

“What do you want me to do?” he breathed, then mimed a biting motion as he growled.

Her cheeks and ears burned as her legs clenched together momentarily in reaction to the warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach. “I’ve been a  _ very  _ naughty guest,” she murmured, then blushed even harder as he chuckled. “I have!”

“I know,” he said, “but you don’t really have to sound like a bad porno. Unless that’s what your last boyfriend wanted?”

“Well… no,” she admitted, letting herself laugh at her own corny line. “But I like--” She paused, not wanting to give it voice. “I thought you--”

“Oh, I did. But that line…” After a final grin and shake of his head, he sobered, though he didn’t release her. “I just want to make sure you know you can tell me to stop. I’m no stranger to what you want, but I can get...intense.”

And there she was, right back to her heart thudding and short breaths. “I like...intense,” she told him quickly. “I...I think I need intense right now.”

His expression softened. “You were acting so brave, I almost forgot. They held you for a few hours, didn’t they?”

“Yes.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath as she tried to calm herself. “Hours of interrogation.”

“And more?” Hawke asked, his tone cautious.

“No. No, not yet. But they were in contact with someone who was an expert.” She opened her eyes. “That’s when I escaped.”

“So. Not so much  _ acting  _ brave as  _ being  _ brave,” he said with a smile. “You’re definitely quite the woman, beautiful.” Before she could do more than blush at his words, he tilted her head down as he rose to his tiptoes, seizing her lips in a kiss so heated that she felt her knees weaken. “But if intense is what you need, then you’ve come to the right man. Just tell me your safeword before we  _ really _ get started.”

“Herald,” she said immediately. It was the same word she’d used with Varric, though more to let him know when she needed to break character during their sex play than anything. She knew she wouldn’t forget it no matter how _ intense _ they got.

“Got it.” He grinned. “Shall we then?”

_ “Please,” _ she whimpered, then gasped as he pulled her away from the door and shoved her facedown onto the bed. As she fake-struggled under him, she heard a drawer open nearby as he pulled something out of it. A moment later, she felt a slim rope slip around her wrists and then her arms as he expertly bound them behind her back, then did the same to her ankles. She bucked and squirmed beneath him, but not enough to actually stop him, not when she was enjoying it so much.

Suddenly his weight lifted off her back, and he dragged her hips up and her knees forward until she was kneeling with her face resting on some pillows. It put a  _ little  _ strain on her neck like that, but otherwise was relatively comfortable while also forcing her to be completely helpless. “Perfect. You won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

She noticed that he gave her a few seconds to explore the bonds, letting her discover for herself that he knew enough to give her a quick release. One pull, and she could free herself. Apparently Hawke really  _ did _ know what he was doing, and she gave him a grateful smile.

In the next minute, though, Hawke grabbed her arms and pulled her upright, wrapping an arm around her torso as he gripped her chin in his hand. Turning her head, he hissed in her ear, “Maybe you should have thought things through a little before you decided to go exploring.”

Her breath came in short pants, the ache building surprisingly fast in the pit of her stomach as she contemplated her next move. Hoping to surprise him, she pushed him back with a sudden shove, lunging to one side in an apparent bid for freedom. With a growl, he launched himself at her, pushing her into the wall and pinning her there as he claimed a long, heated kiss that was as much lip biting as anything else.

That  _ almost _ melted her--it certainly stoked the fire burning within--but then she retaliated, using her greater height to her advantage as her leg rose and hooked around one of his thighs, dropping him to the floor. This time her run to the doorway was real, but it was only real in the full confidence that he wouldn’t let her get far.

He didn’t, of course, though he waited until she’d made it to the hallway before tackling her in a way that took them both to the floor with a minimum amount of discomfort. In all honesty, though, nothing mattered except the heat building between them. For a moment their gazes met as she struggled and squirmed beneath him. From the outside, she was sure, it looked like a struggle in earnest, but on the inside… 

Oh, on the inside, she  _ burned _ with lust.

At some point she accidentally pulled the release to the ropes, though he was quick to catch on. Once she realized that she’d freed herself, though, she grabbed the rope at the same time he did, and the tussling graduated to a full wrestling match. She wasn’t surprised that he was good at it, all things considered, but she knew that she  _ definitely _ surprised him when she proved good enough to meet him head-on. She suspected that somewhere her mentor  _ would _ have been smiling on her from his grave if this wasn’t just a fancy precursor to sex.

Soon, however, she learned that practical experience  _ mattered _ when it came to this sort of fight. After a few clever feints from him that left her overextended in precisely the wrong way, he grabbed a hold of her crop top--which, to be honest, wasn’t even covering anything by this point--and yanked it upwards, taking her arms with it. Instead of taking it off, however, he quickly wrapped it around her eyes, effectively blinding her. 

Leaving her elbows above her horns, he pulled her wrists down and held them as he tied the rope she’d almost forgotten about around them. Disoriented, she couldn’t really respond as he pushed her down to her knees, kicking them apart with his foot. In the next instant, she felt him wrap the same rope around her ankles, linking them to her wrists and restricting her movement.

As she sat there, panting and heart pounding from a combination of arousal, intrigue, and a slight tinge of fear that made the arousal that much more powerful. She grew acutely aware of her bared breasts and the moistened condition of the booty shorts she still wore, and also very conscious of the fact that she didn’t know what he intended to do. It was intense, and it was exactly what she needed.

When he didn’t immediately touch her, she realized that he was again giving her a few moments, as he had before. Quickly she tested the tie of the ropes, and her fingers found the quick-release, though she didn’t tug it. After  _ that  _ level of physical foreplay, there was no way in the fires of all that was unholy that she’d be leaving  _ now,  _ after all _. _ He whetted her appetite as much as he’d aroused her interest--and more. Instead, she waited, trying to figure out how to look sexy while in such a strange position and afraid she was failing miserably.

“Got you,” Hawke growled in her ear, and she jumped as his hands landed on his hips. He must be kneeling behind her, given the height difference, to put his mouth at her ear level. The brush of his beard on her ear made her shudder, much as Varric’s stubble had always sent a shiver to her core. “Right where I want you.”

“And where is that?” she asked, the demand weakened a bit by the way she leaned back into him.

He chuckled, and in the next moment the shirt was tugged away from her eyes, though he left it in place to restrict her arm movement.

Her eyes widened as she saw that he’d arranged her in that flagrant pose in front of the mirror she’d passed in the hallway. She noted immediately the gleam of sweat on her body, the tousled condition of her hair, the darkened spot on her panties, and the flush of arousal that spread over her torso, granting her grey skin a rosy, dusky hue. “Oh,” she breathed, transfixed as his hands smoothed down the front of her thighs. Before she got too distracted, though, she tried to rally, to remember the nature of the game they played. “Are you sure I’m helpless?”

His hands stroke up her sides. “I’m definitely not seeing anything I’d qualify as weapons,” he told her with a wicked grin.

“Are you looking hard enough?” she asked breathily, then bit her lip when his hands finally closed around her breasts. As he toyed with them, she groaned and bucked beneath him.  _ Oh, yes, _ he’d definitely found her first weak spot.

“Well, I think I’m definitely hard enough,” he said, grinding his hips forward so she could feel just how hard he was. “As for weapons, let’s see.” Rolling her nipples between his fingers, he mused, “While you could argue that these could  _ proverbially _ imperil the unsuspecting carbon-based residents of a high-end jewelry store, I’m not sure they qualify you as armed and dangerous.” His eyes twinkled. “And you’re surprisingly compliant for someone who got caught where they shouldn’t be.”

She glared at him, but then he tugged on one of her nipples and her mock defiance took a solid blow. Rallying, she jerked herself to one side and tried to close her knees together. “You can’t just tie me up and have your way with me,” she insisted, trying to pretend the indignance called for.

“I can when you want it as badly as I do,” he murmured, reaching down to jerk her knees apart again. As his fingers raked up her inner thigh, he said, “Besides, you’re the one who invaded my room and earned punishment.” His other hand slapped her hard on her ass, making her jump and startling a yelp out of her. “You don’t get a say in the matter.”

As his hand slid into her panties, she gasped and moaned, well aware that what he  _ said _ wasn’t true. She very much  _ did _ have a say in the matter, and they both knew it. Her  _ say _ was expressed in the way she pressed herself against him, the way her fingers twined desperately in his hair, and the whimpering sounds she made as his fingers deftly stroked her wet folds. 

Between his rough handling of her breast and the glancing touch to swollen clit, Adaar felt the snap inside as the tension coiled tight before just as quickly releasing. It was a screaming orgasm, the type that would have been a danger to any pillow under her head if they’d been on a bed, given the way her head jerked back with the crack of climax. 

In the next moment, of course, she lay limp in Hawke’s arms, and he chuckled as he cradled her into a more relaxed position.  _ “Someone _ needed that,” he teased. “I figured you might. It’s been a while since I was last captured, but I remember being horny as  _ fuck _ after escaping. Something about freedom is the best aphrodisiac of all. Throw in a high speed dangerous chase after that, and I’m surprised we didn’t do this earlier.”

“Yeaaah,” she murmured, drawing the word out as a smile came to her lips. As she slowly descended from what she hoped would be but the first bliss of the evening, she turned her head so she could meet his gaze. “What about y--”

His lips claimed hers before she could finish, his hands stroking up her body from knee to breasts as he deepened the kiss into something more than just a moment of passing passion. As he pulled away, their eyes met and locked, and she shivered as his nails lightly stroked her neck. “You’re still a very  _ naughty _ girl.”

“The worst,” she breathed, arching her back as she half-turned, offering her breasts up in invitation.

He took her up on the offer, his hand cupping her breast and kneading it as he claimed another lingering kiss. This time, however, he ended the kiss by slapping her ass with a hard slap, eliciting a gasp. “Then your punishment will have to be  _ very _ extensive.”

The next couple of hours sped by in a lusty blur of pleasure tinged with delicious sprinkles of pain. Hawke proved to be  _ very _ up to the task--more than once, in fact. Eventually they ended up back on the bed, with Adaar bent facedown on top of the bed as he held her wrists in one hand and slapped her ass with the other, all the while pounding his cock into her over and over. She knew she would be sore in the morning in several places and sport a few love bruises in addition to the ones she’d earned more legitimately during her escape, but she didn’t care one bit.

It was  _ glorious. _

She had a vague memory of Hawke wiping her body with a warm cloth before tucking her into bed, and an even dimmer impression of a warm weight settling behind her on the bed before an arm draped over her side. She  _ did _ feel the hand close around her breast and something nuzzle at her neck, though, summoning a smile to her face as she slipped into sleep.

Whatever else could be said about Hawke, he definitely knew how to satisfy the needs of his clients--especially the current one.


	3. Dawn to Dusk

Adaar woke slowly, emerging from one of the deepest sleeps she’d experienced in months. Her body sent her conflicting signals, complaining about the injuries she’d received the day before but also more than content about what had happened  _ after, _ with Hawke. She smiled without opening her eyes as she became aware of a warm body pressed against her back, wondering how she’d become the little spoon despite being taller than him. One of his arms was draped over her waist, though she couldn’t tell if he were awake or not.

It was surprisingly nice, she realized, to wake up with someone else in the bed. She hadn’t had that since the breakup with Varric, and he’d  _ always _ been the little spoon through sheer logistics, even if they’d tried it the other way first. Well, that, and he liked being able to turn around and have instant access to her breasts with his mouth. 

Almost as if the thought had been spoken out loud, Hawke’s hand suddenly moved up and cupped her breast. She shivered as his finger circled her still-sensitive nipple with a light touch, images from last night flashing through her mind.

“Good morning,” Hawke rumbled behind her.

_ Mmm, deep morning voice. _ “Morning,” she murmured, surprised at how groggy she sounded.

He shifted his body away from her, guiding her to lie on her back so he could bend over her and tease her lips for a kiss. “How are you feeling?”

She squinted one eye and twisted her mouth to one side as she tried to tally up all the various commands and suggestions her body was yelling at her. “Relaxed, hungry, sweaty, and horny. I kinda wish I’d taken a shower before going to sleep.”

“Aren’t you always horny?” he asked with a grin, then winced as she slapped him hard on the ass. “Ow. C’mon, I  _ know _ you’ve heard that joke before.”

“You’re terrible,” she began, but stopped when his lips caught hers again, this time accompanied by a slow, tender caress of one of her breasts. Varric had always teased her about her two points of weakness, and it seemed that Hawke had figured it out as well. He didn’t have to chuckle as she released a soft moan, though.

As their lips parted, he murmured, “Any pick on what you want to fix first?”

“Considering what’s pressing into my thigh, I think you have a preference,” she said with a grin. “Feeling frisky, I take it?”

“Something about waking up next to a beautiful woman has that effect on me, I guess,” he said with a grin, then shifted his position so that he was straddling her.

This time, the sex proved to be far more tender than the previous night, which had been all heat and fire and lust. Now, it felt like a warm, erotic massage that included a generous helping of hard cock, and she loved every minute of it. He brought her up a long, slow slope of arousal with his mouth and hands moving all over her body and lingering at her breasts and between her legs, and then drove her over the edge with his cock and devilishly clever fingers working together. 

As she floated in a sea of bliss, she fell into a light doze again. When she opened her eyes, she found that Hawke had tugged the blanket up and around her shoulders before leaving, a detail that made her smile. Throwing the blanket back, she slowly eased herself to her feet one step at a time until she swayed uncertainly on her feet. Her knee and ankle still hurt, she knew she probably had a couple of love-bruises in various places, but she also couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more relaxed.

With a huge yawn, she stumbled towards a door which thankfully proved to be Hawke’s bathroom, one that had clearly been used recently enough that the mirror was still fogged from hot water. After fiddling with the fixtures for a few seconds, she stepped into the shower and stood under the showerhead, grateful that it was as high as the one in the guest bathroom. For an unknown time, she let the water wash over her, wicking away the sweat of the night and the morning as it slowly coaxed her into a more alert state of mind.

Absently her hand rose to stroke her left horn, her fingers sliding along its length to make sure it hadn’t gotten disturbed during the previous night’s vigorous activity. Finding it still firmly sealed, she gave it a little twist just to make sure before turning her attention to the soap and shampoo. Hawke wouldn’t have a horn cleaner kit, of course, but she could do without that for a week or so, if needed.

The thought inevitably made her realize that she had no idea where she would be in a week, but for now she pushed that thought aside. Instead, she concentrated on the task at hand, emerging clean and alert from the shower with a deep breath.

As she emerged from the bathroom, she found Hawke waiting for her. “Here. Isabela’s not quite your size, but it’s better than nothing. I mean, it’s more  _ proper _ than nothing.”

She rolled her eyes as she took the clothing from him. “Meaning you’d prefer nothing?”

“I’m a simple man,” he said with a shrug. “But breakfast is usually better with clothes. The chairs are more comfortable, anyway.”

“Breakfast?” She didn’t need to hear her stomach growl to realize how famished she was. Eagerly she dropped the towel and started tugging on the clothes. “Lead the way.”

Thankfully, his claim of a culinary degree was  _ not _ a boast.

* * *

The next couple of days passed almost in a blur, wrapped in a protective cocoon of sex and food and sleep. One evening as they lounged on the couch while their skin cooled, Hawke’s phone abruptly lit up and buzzed.

Hawke sighed. “I was enjoying the silence,” he groaned as he picked up the phone, then grinned as he glanced at the screen. “Varric finally sent his flight details. He’s arriving tomorrow morning.”

Her heart sped up. “He’ll be here soon?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to go pick him up, of course. Taxis don’t come out this far,” he explained as he set his phone aside. “I’ll leave after I make breakfast for you.”

She chuckled and reached out to stroke his beard. “You’ve been spoiling me these last two days,” she murmured.

“You’re my client,” Hawke pointed out, reaching out to cup her breast with a gentle touch. “If you have a need, it’s my  _ job _ to make sure that need is met.”

She couldn’t help but blush at the touch, since it  _ still _ sent a warm tingle through her body. “And that’s the only reason?”

“Well, the fact that you’re beautiful doesn’t hurt,” he observed with a sly grin.

“Flatterer,” she said, looking away as her blush deepened.

“You know what they say,” he said in a lazy tone as his hand pinched her nipple. “It’s not flattery if it’s true. Did you know your ears turn a beautiful shade when you blush?”

Batting his hand away before he could distract her further, she settled a mock-glare on him. “How long will you be gone?” she asked, trying to get back to the topic on hand.

“A few hours. A couple to get out there, an hour or two to get him situated, a couple hours to come back. He might want to go food shopping, since he likes to take advantage of my college degree as much as  _ you _ do.” He gave her a subtle wink.

“I have no regrets there,” she admitted. “You certainly know what to do with your meat.”

His lips spread in a wide grin, and suddenly he surged forward. She squealed and tried to avoid his grip, but he  _ was _ a fighter, and soon he had her pinned against the couch. Their lips locked into a passionate kiss as one of his hands dropped down to claim her breast again, his fingers deftly moving in a way that took full advantage of her weakness. Moaning into the kiss, she reached between them and seized his hardening cock, using her nails in a way she’d learned made him squirm.

By the time their lips parted, their breath came in short pants as for a long few moments they stared into each others’ eyes. After a few moments, Hawke reached up with trembling fingers to tuck a tendril of her white hair behind her horn, keeping his eyes locked with hers as he searched her face carefully. “So what will you do once Varric gets here?”

She swallowed. “I’ve been avoiding even thinking about that,” she admitted. “I can’t go home. The Qunari will be watching it, and the families of anyone who might take me in.”

“Until they don’t have a reason to look for you, that will continue to be true,” Hawke noted, his hand dropping to slowly stroke up and down her side.

“I might need help to fix that,” she conceded.

Hawke’s head bent down as he slowly began to kiss her neck, each kiss a soft bite. In between the words, he spoke. “Varric...will be happy...to provide that help...I think.”

Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back as far as her horns would allow. “I think he won’t be able to do it without some help.”

“That’s what he does best,” Hawke murmured, his breath hot against her skin as his lips and teeth slowly worked their way down her torso. “Find the right person to help.”

“Do you think you would be--” Suddenly his mouth closed around one of her nipples, eliciting a breathy gasp from her as his teeth and tongue explored their new bounty. For a long few moments, she floated in a haze of bliss, dimly aware that his fingers had reached up to toy with her other nipple. It took her a while to remember that she’d been speaking, and longer after that to finish the sentence. “--available?”

“I might be open to negotiation,” Hawke murmured. When Adaar hit him with a weak punch, he laughed and pulled himself back up to give her a lusty kiss. “So,” he said, “the first night you were the burglar getting punished for her misdeeds. Last night you were the Tallis seducing her target for information. What do you want to do tonight?”

She thought about it for a few moments, then reached up and twined her fingers in his hair to draw his face close. “The Hawke and his prey,” she breathed against his lips.

He hummed, the sound vibrating his chest where it pressed against her torso. “Just that?”

“That’s what I want,” she whispered fervently.

His expression softened. “Then that is what I will give you.”

And give that to her he did, and more, until the worries of the world melted away once more.

* * *

When she awoke alone and thoroughly tucked in, she smiled. The scent she’d come to associate with Hawke lingered in the sheets around her, and she closed her eyes to breathe it in deeply. Eventually, though, the need for a shower and food drove her out from her warm, scented cocoon, and after a long shower she let her nose guide her to where a slow cooker had been left on the kitchen counter with a note saying it should be enough food for breakfast and lunch ‘even for her’.

She wrinkled her nose at the silent jab, then giggled. She  _ did _ eat more than he did, after all, but then, she was taller than him by a good few inches.

After a hefty bowl of the porridge that was somehow absolutely delicious besides being just oats and fruit and spices, she wandered around the house for a while. Being alone here made her realize just how much she’d come to rely on Hawke’s presence, even beyond the sex and the food. But then, being with Hawke also had ensured she hadn’t wandered freely around the place, and now that she had the opportunity…

Unsurprisingly, she encountered several locked doors. Given Hawke’s business, it made sense that he’d have several places only accessible to those with a need-to-know. After an hour or two, she managed to map out the house in her head so that she could label sections and make some educated guesses about what might be behind the locked doors.

In one closet in the guest suite--which she honestly hadn’t spent much time in since arriving--she found a closet with an array of clothes labeled  _ For donation. _ Her lips pursed as she sifted through them, noting that it was a large array of male and female clothing from the last few years. Deciding that it was as good an occupation as anything, she pulled off an armful of outfits and laid them on the bed.

She noticed immediately that whoever the woman’s clothes had all been tailored for a large bust, narrow waist, and ample hips. Without that, she doubted  _ any _ of the human-sized clothing would fit. As it was, they were still on the tight side, and more than a couple would have been disastrous to wear in public. Still, the clothing was good quality, just a bit worn or out of date, and it was a simple way to pass the time.

It wasn’t until she reached the last few outfits that her stomach suddenly roared into life and reminded her of how much time had passed. She paused, absently smoothing her hands down her stomach as she tried to calculate how long she’d been trying on clothing, and couldn’t come up with a concrete number. She quickly put all the clothing back except for the one she wore, then hesitated once more in front of the mirror.

The shirt was sleeveless, which she preferred, and had a plunging neckline partially covered by the ties of an embedded corset. A generous portion of her cleavage still showed, though, which she knew  _ Hawke  _ preferred. The dress went down to her mid-thigh, with from the waist down to expose the sides of her legs. Again, as she had with the first booty outfit she’d worn, she felt the sexuality of the woman who had worn the outfit before, and rather enjoyed the effect.

With a nod, she adjusted the neckline one more time and headed to the kitchen for her lunch. Her step faltered when she realized that this time,  _ Varric _ would see the outfit as well. A welter of mixed emotions swirled inside, but in the end she lifted her chin and kept moving. She was nervous about seeing Varric, true, but she wouldn’t let that change anything.

And maybe there was a part of her that  _ wanted _ Varric to see her like this. After all, when they’d been on, they’d been on  _ fire. _

After lunch had been eaten, she sighed and checked the clock again. Feeling restless, she decided that she’d be happier if she knew when they returned, which would be easiest to do if she were in the garage itself. A few minutes of wandering based on fuzzy memories of her arrival led her to the elevator, which led her to the empty garage.

Or  _ mostly _ empty. “I must have  _ really _ been out of it when I got here,” she murmured, staring with wide eyes at the open space around her. It seemed to be too big for the farmhouse she vaguely remembered, but then she had also been tipsy and injured. After some poking around, she found a small door tucked away between two shelving systems, and pushed her way through, wondering where it led.

Judging from the soft sunlight and weatherbeaten wood paneling of the corridor it opened into, she guessed that this was the ‘upstairs’ of the house that Hawke had briefly mentioned. She smiled as she stepped out, realizing that she hadn’t actually seen the sunlight since her arrival. When she found a window looking out over the dense forest around Hawke’s house, she paused and leaned against it, soaking in the feel of the sun-warmed glass against her skin and chest.

As she leaned against the glass, she heard a sound somewhere else in the house. Quickly she jerked away from the window and dropped into an instinctive crouch.  _ Was it the Qunari? _ For all that Hawke bragged about his little hidey-hole, what if they  _ had _ followed him all the way back, and had just been waiting for an opportunity to find her alone. And if they’d seen her in the window…

Heart racing, she debated between returning to the door and disappearing below and going to investigate the sound. As she waited, the sound repeated, something between a groan and a grunt. It wasn’t any closer, though, for which she was grateful, but she knew she couldn’t just stay in place forever.

Taking a deep, slow breath, she decided to venture a little further into the house, figuring she’d rather know what she was up against than cowering down in the bunker. Slowly she moved down the corridor towards the first door, tensing when she found it already partially open. Steeling herself, she inched closer to the door, trying to see without being seen by anyone who might be inside.

The sound came again, a mixture between a grunt and a groan, but it seemed to come from farther away. As she reached for the door handle, however, she suddenly heard a loud crash. If it hadn’t immediately been followed by an unmistakably familiar moan, she would have run for the door and the safety of the bunker.

As it was, she froze in shock as Hawke groaned,  _ “Harder.” _

Ears burning, she heard a loud slap, followed by a sound  _ thud _ . “You always say that,” she heard a familiar voice grate.

_ Varric? With Hawke? But why didn’t they come down? And why is Hawke saying-- _

Her thoughts crashed to a halt as the obvious answer presented itself.  _ Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Ohhh. _ Her skin suddenly felt tight and hot, and she didn’t have to look down to know that her nipples had hardened as a wash of embarrassment, curiosity, and desire rushed through her body. _ Well, shit. _

While her mind struggled to make the leap from the track of  _ oh shit, they found me  _ to  _ oh shit, I found them _ , Hawke laughed, the sound breathy and strained. “I always want it. I just wish you didn’t break a chair every goddamn--”

Whatever he might have said was interrupted by another loud slap. “Then stop buying such fragile chairs, Snickers.”

_ Snickers? _ She pressed her hands over her mouth to prevent a giggle from escaping. The need to laugh faded, however, as her ears picked up a new sound, a rhythmic creaking that had her push open the door so she could get a view of what was going on in the room.

Her eyes widened as she took in  _ the view,  _ landing as they did first on the sight of Varric’s bare ass as it pumped in a rhythm she remembered all too intimately. For a few moments, she just watched the muscles flexing, inundated by memories of being on the receiving end of those powerful thrusts. She couldn’t help but be fascinated by the trails of sweat that slowly worked their way through the curly hairs that were Varric’s signature on more than his chest, though the sight was enough to make her fingers itch.

Still, it wasn’t  _ just  _ the sight of Varric’s hard and hard-at-work ass that stoked the coil of heat in her core as she watched. It was the way Hawke sprawled facedown over the arm of the couch so that his legs dangled and jerked with every buck of Varric’s hips, the way one of Varric’s hands pressed Hawke’s wrists together behind him to lock him in place, the way Hawke alternated between craning his neck to look at Varric and pressing his face into the cushion as he urged Varric to  _ Fuck him harder. _ She watched, hypnotized, as Varric’s other hand switched from its task of squeezing Hawke’s tight balls to rise up and deliver another sound slap on the man’s bouncing buttocks, eliciting the groan that she had heard previously.

The following thought was, of course, inevitable:  _ How often had Hawke been Varric’s ‘naughty boy’? _

No wonder Hawke had known  _ exactly _ how to approach her first night in the bunker.

It was something she never knew she needed before seeing it in tableau, but now that she  _ had… _ She bit her lip as the surge of heat from earlier grew stronger. Tempted as she was to interrupt--or, if she were honest to herself, to  _ join-- _ she could tell that they were close to culmination, and she couldn’t bring herself to speak up. Soundlessly, she pulled the door mostly closed again, grateful they were too distracted to notice her temporary intrusion.

She could still hear them, though. The sounds latched into her mind, and she found herself leaning against the wall as she tried and failed to convince herself to walk down the hallway and return to the bunker. Instead, her hands slipped under her dress, one high and one low, and she sent a fervent, silent thanks to whoever had designed the outfit to allow such easy access when it  _ really _ mattered.

Closing her eyes, she narrowed her focus to just her sound and touch, biting her lower lip to keep as silent as she could manage. Hawke was certainly getting louder as he approached his release, something she’d noticed over the last couple of days, and of course Varric always liked his dirty talk. In the end, she ended up biting down on her knuckles as Hawke let loose a now-familiar drawn out moan and the creaking of the couch rose to a cacophony that ended abruptly with a satisfied groan.

They all needed to catch their breaths after that, apparently. As she emerged from her haze, she glanced down and bit back a giggle as she took in her condition. Somehow she’d managed to unlace half the corset to expose both her breasts, and the skirt of the dress had been tugged up to expose even more. Silently she pushed herself to her feet, wobbling a bit before she started tugging her clothes back into some semblance of order. There wasn’t much she could do about the stickiness on her thighs, but she knew she could sneak back up for a quick wash before they noticed her.

As she thought of the men, she heard Hawke ask in a lazy tone, “I take it you missed me?”

“It’s been almost a year since Satinalia,” Varric reminded him with a chuckle. 

“And I was still recovering from having my liver nearly shredded,” Hawke mused. “Last year wasn’t my best year, honestly.”

“At least you survived to see this year.” There was some more creaking, then the sound of cloth rustling as the men started to move. “I don’t like to think of a world without you in it.”

“Neither do I,” Hawke said. “I might be biased, but I tend to think that it’s a better world with me in it.”

Varric laughed softly. “Never change, Hawke.”

“I don’t plan to,” Hawke said with a grin. “So, still nervous about seeing her?”

“Nervous? Why would I be nervous?” Varric protested.

“Oh, come on, Varric,” Hawke said, his voice abruptly serious. “I’m perfectly capable of reading between your lines by this point. As soon as you said her last boyfriend was a bit of a bastard to her, I knew you were talking about yourself. What happened? How awkward is this going to be when you two meet again?”

Adaar pressed a hand to her mouth as she heard Varric sigh heavily, a slow creak indicating that he’d taken a seat on the couch. Part of her wanted to intervene and defend him, but that part of her that was still angry at him wanted to throw the door open and preemptively tear him down. As it was, the turn of conversation held her in place a bit longer, only slightly guilty to be eavesdropping on them.

“A bit over a year ago, she got a call from a number I didn’t recognize, and the next day she was gone. When she came back a few days later, she told me her father had died and she needed time.”

“And you wanted to know more,” Hawke predicted.

“I wanted to know more,” Varric echoed with a weary sigh. “And I kept pressuring her to tell me about it. At the time I didn’t know why she refused to tell me, and I just wanted to help if I could.”

Hawke grunted. “Sometimes you like to stick your nose too a bit too deeply into your friends’ business,” he said in a soft voice. “There is such a thing as taking care of  _ too _ many of their problems.”

“Yeah, I know. You think I would have learned after Merrill,” Varric said in a rueful tone. “She  _ still _ won’t talk to me.”

“She and Isabela get together once in a while for a girls’ weekend,” Hawke said. “She’s doing well.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it, Hawke. We both know I got her parents killed by investigating something that was better left alone,” Varric said bitterly. “I should have waited until Herah was ready to tell me what I needed to know.” 

There was a long silence, and then Hawke sighed. “You never stopped trying to figure it out, did you?”

“Of course not. I loved her, Hawke,” Varric said, in a tone of voice that made Adaar’s throat tighten. “I still do. She was the best damn thing that ever happened to me except for you, and we both know why we can’t be together.”

“And we both know that we haven’t agreed to disagree about that.” There was more creaking, as Hawke joined him on the couch. “Are you sure you didn’t sabotage it with her on purpose, like you did with me? To keep her safe from the day your job catches up with you?”

“I ask myself that every day,” Varric said softly. “I still don’t know.”

“I mean, that’s still a shit reason to push away the ones you love,” Hawke said. “Just saying.”

Varric barked a short, dirty laugh. “And it didn’t work, anyway. She’s in more danger because of her father than anything my job could have done to her.”

“Ah. So you  _ did _ figure it out.” 

“Oh, it took a while, believe me,” Varric said, even as Adaar’s eyes widened. “And I still almost found out too late, which is why she’d already been captured before you could make contact.”

Adaar squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of self-recrimination in Varric’s tone. She knew him well enough to know he blamed himself for her getting captured, and it was both touching and frustrating. Granted, she  _ had  _ needed help, but she didn’t want to be a burden to him, or be thought of as someone that  _ needed _ that protection. She wasn’t helpless.

On the other hand, she had some very dangerous enemies, and she knew it.

“So what made the Qunari send an I&E after her? I’ve never seen them send one after someone who wasn’t from the Qun,” Hawke mused. “Usually they go after people who betray them.”

“Well, technically she’s from their territory. Her parents stuffed her into a shipping crate and sent her to her mother’s sister when she was six. But yeah, they usually don’t go after people like her. But people like her father? Prime suspect.”

Adaar straightened, listening more closely. She’d never actually heard the story from an outsider’s perspective, though she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that Varric knew about it. It  _ was _ his business to know everything, after all.

“The father that died a year ago?” Hawke asked.

“Yeah. Apparently after he shipped off his daughter--proving that he knew who she was, against their regulations--he was sent in for several rounds of re-education until he was a good little Qunari again. Considering he was one of their top-tier scientists in the then-emerging field of Artificial Intelligence, they were very keen on retaining his services.” When Hawke swore, Varric said, “Exactly.”

“So what happened a year ago?” Hawke asked. “I mean, my guess would be he tried to escape again.”

“Got it in one. But he didn’t just  _ leave,” _ Varric explained. “He put all the top secret shit he had access to onto a storage device and took that with him. When they found out, he became Qun Enemy Number One, no holds barred and no effort spared.”

“And they caught him,” Hawke said grimly.

“Well, he was damn smart. They  _ did _ find him, but he managed to escape the first attempt. As far as I can tell, that was when he contacted Herah.”

Adaar’s eyes closed as the memory inevitably surged in her mind.

_ Your father’s strained voice as he tells you where to meet him... _

_ The desperate race to a distant alley only to find him sitting in an expanding puddle of his own blood... _

_ Joy mixed with sorrow as you realize that this is both a wished-for reunion and a final farewell.. _

_ A small package pressed into your hand as you kiss his cheek… _

_ The sight of him pressing a gun to his own temple as he tells you to leave before they find him… _

_ The roar of the gun behind you as you run, dashing the tears from your eyes… _

It took effort to pull herself back from the memory, and the world blurred around her until she wiped away her tears with a shaking hand. She could tell the conversation had moved on without her, but she didn’t care anymore.

Quietly she rose to her feet and padded down the corridor, back to the elevator and the relative safety of the bunker. A long, warm soak sounded wonderful right now.

Preferably with a warm cloth to absorb her tears.


	4. Past to Present

Hawke found her still lingering in the bathtub, her head resting on her crossed hands as she dozed lightly in the warm water. “Hey, beautiful,” he murmured as he closed the door behind him and came over to sit next to her. It was a trifle awkward for him, but she smiled as she felt his hand stroke her hair. “Is that comfortable, or are you secretly a cat?”

She chuckled tiredly as she slowly pushed herself upright. “I am not a cat,” she admitted. “My back is already making its complaints known. But the water felt so good, and my horns don’t really work for lying on my back in the tub.”

“Huh. I never thought about that,” Hawke admitted. “I bet they sell specialized tubs somewhere to fix that.”

“I had one in my apartment,” she said with a sad little smile. “It was an upgrade I had to pay for, but it was worth it. I’m just amazed your tub is large enough. Most aren’t.”

“I wanted to make sure it was big enough for two,” Hawke said with a grin.

She leaned back and made a show of examining the tub. “Hmm. That’s quite the squeeze from my perspective.”

“We’d have to like each other a lot, true,” Hawke said, reaching out to run a fingertip down her wet arm. When she quietly withdrew her arm, he pulled his hand back with pinched brows. “Is something wrong?”

She swallowed. “Help me out,” she said, pushing herself slowly to her feet so she didn’t slosh the water out of the tub. Silently he did so, but instead of letting her get a towel, he grabbed one and wrapped it around her with his arms.

“Need to talk?” he asked in a low voice.

WIth his chest pressed against her back like it was, the deep tone made her body vibrate in a pleasant way. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and let herself sag into his hold. “I thought I was ready,” she whispered.

His arms gave her a little squeeze. “To see Varric?”

She nodded and sniffed, using her hand to rub her nose with a corner of the towel.

Hawke kissed her shoulder, since it was the only part he could reach in this position, and then slowly started to work the towel over her body. “Let’s get you dry, and then I’ll braid your hair.”

They remained silent as he deftly brushed and braided her long hair. He didn’t ask a single question, though he did stop occasionally to caress her cheek or the shell of her ear in a soothing manner. By the time her hair had been tucked into a surprisingly complex braid, she felt calmer--no, _soothed_ \--and turned to smile up at Hawke. “Thank you.”

“Any time, beautiful,” he murmured, then leaned down to brush their lips together. She recognized it for the affection it was, not an invitation for more, and smiled. 

The smile quickly faded, however. “So he’s here?”

Hawke nodded. “He’s pretending to keep busy out in the main room.”

Closing her eyes, she summoned an image of Varric sitting on the large couch, his phone or tablet in hand, absently tapping as he stared blankly at the screen without really reading it. It was a vivid snapshot, but also, she knew, almost certainly completely accurate. “How is he?”

“Worried. Nervous. Not liking the fact that he’s either of those,” Hawke said with a shrug. “How are you?”

“Anxious. Uncertain.” She sighed and looked at her hands, folded tight on her lap. “I haven’t seen him in over a year, but…”

Slowly he knelt in front of her and settled his hands on top of hers. “Do you still love him?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, albeit slowly given how many she’d shed in the bath, and her throat tightened. Bereft of her voice, she simply nodded. Dimly she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to know that Hawke knew about her past relationship with Varric, but that didn’t seem very important right now.

“Then come on,” Hawke urged gently. “Let’s go see him. I’ll step in if things get bad, but I don’t think they will.”

She bit her lip, but knew he was right. She couldn’t avoid Varric forever anyway, and if the Qunari really were after her because of what her father had given her, then she really _would_ need his help.

He’d sent Hawke to help her, after all.

Suddenly she remembered the conversation she’d overheard, and looked up into Hawke’s face as a realization hit her. Varric had sent the man he loved into danger to save the woman he loved...and _something_ had happened between them, something that she wasn’t sure she could call mere survival lust.

And she had no idea what to think about that.

“Are you all right?” Hawke asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face that dark before.”

She stood abruptly, so abruptly that he got a facefull of bosom before he managed to step back with a chuckle. “I need some clothes,” she said.

“Varric brought you some,” Hawke said. “He knew that there wouldn’t be anything here that would really fit you. I left some on the bed out there.”

 _Of course he did._ Still, while it _was_ a touch annoying, it was also thoughtful--and she _did_ need them. She took a deep breath, trying to appreciate the thought without getting stuck on flip side she didn’t like.

Not that she wouldn’t talk to him about it _later,_ of course, she decided with a lift of her chin. But it would be the _first_ thing she’d bring up. 

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I can’t watch?” Hawke asked with a teasing grin, then danced back when she swatted at him. “All right, all right, I’m leaving. See you soon, beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes as he left the bathroom, but her lips twitched with amusement. She couldn’t _read_ Hawke, not really, but she certainly enjoyed being with him.

Turning to the pile of clothes on the bed, she smiled as she saw the small horn kit next to the clothes. She _would_ need that soon, since the skin around the base of her horns was starting to itch. That could wait, though. Quickly she pulled on the clothes, smiling as she saw that Varric still knew her style: yoga pants and a sleeveless button-up shirt. He’d even bought her favorite brand of expensive but durable smalls, built for function but still pretty enough to be sexy.

Her fingers lingered on the buttons of her shirt, knowing how low she normally left them open, then bit her lip and buttoned it up higher. Varric would notice, she knew, especially since the reason she liked a low cleavage was because she enjoyed the access it had given Varric to her weakness. Of course, he had also enjoyed opening the buttons himself, slowly, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin beneath as he nuzzled the base of her neck.

Back when she had trusted him, anyway.

Once she’d closed the last button, she took a deep breath and left the room. She knew the way to the main room, but she didn’t hurry to get there. It wasn’t that she was dragging her feet, she just had to make sure her mind was in the right place before she entered the room.

When she did, she found Varric sitting exactly as she’d pictured him, with Hawke lounging in a nearby recliner. Varric looked up as she entered, and for a moment their eyes met. In that moment, she felt the strength not only of _his_ longing, but her own, and shivered as a surge of emotion washed over her. The moment passed, though, and she averted her gaze as she took her seat.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Varric said softly as he set aside his tablet.

“I am. Thank you.” That, at least, she could say with complete sincerity as she looked up at him. “I’m not sure what I would have done if Hawke hadn’t been looking for me.”

“You’re resourceful,” Hawke chimed in. “I’m sure you would have figured something out.”

“I’m not so sure,” she said, though she did give him a grateful smile.

Varric sighed. “They’ve put you on the same list your father was on, Buttons,” he told her.

Her smile froze in place, and not only because he’d used his special nickname for her. “Then they finally figured out--”

“That you’re the one he spoke to right before he died, yes,” Varric said. “I’m still not sure how they figured it out, but they’re absolutely certain that you have the data he stole from them.” His eyes searched her face. “But then, even I didn’t know about that until I read the reports Isabela obtained. They’re right, aren’t they?”

She bit her lower lip, then nodded her head. 

“Son of a nug,” Varric said in admiration. “I never knew. Do you know what’s in that data?”

“Not all of it, no,” she admitted. “He just said that in the right hands, it would hurt the Qunari. Maybe even destroy them.”

Hawke’s eyebrows rose. “That sounds dangerous. No wonder the I&E team wouldn’t give up.”

“It also means they can’t figure out where you or your father stashed the data,” Varric mused. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have shown their hand and gone after you directly.”

She pulled her legs onto the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees as she shivered at the thought of being in their hands again. “They won’t take any chances next time,” she said softly. “I only escaped because they didn’t search me thoroughly, so they didn’t find the stash of tools in my belt.”

Varric grinned. “That’s my gir--” He stopped, then cleared his throat. “I mean, that sounds like you. Always full of surprises.”

She buried her face in her knees for a moment, trying to hide her blush. Varric just had that effect on her sometimes.

“Still, it means that they won’t stop looking for you,” Hawke said in a more serious tone. “So we have to figure out what your next step should be.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said with a sigh as she lifted her head. “And I don’t have an answer. They know where I live, and by now they probably know all my friends.” She shot Varric a look. “Including you.”

“Yeah, I know. I took extra steps to make sure my route here avoided their scrutiny,” Varric said. “And they tried. Luckily I have friends in pretty high places.”

She smiled faintly. “I know.”

“But it does bring up the problem of the data. Your father said _the right hands,”_ Varric mused. “Did he say who that would be?”

“No. From what little he was able to tell me, he’d arranged to meet with someone else to hand over the data, but the Qun caught up with him before the meeting happened,” she said. “I’ve been trying to figure out who that was ever since.”

“Did he give you any kind of a hint about who it was?” Hawke asked, face intent.

“Only the name of an animal,” she said with a little one-shouldered shrug. “It didn’t make sense to me.”

Hawke and Varric exchanged a look, and Hawke grinned as he said, “Let me guess. Bull?”

Her eyes widened. “Yes! How did you--”

“Because we know him,” Varric said. “He’s married to an old friend of mine. Evelyn Trevelyan.”

"The woman who helps you cook your books so the government doesn't come knocking?" Hawke asked with a grin.

Varric drew himself up. "I run a perfectly legitimate business, Snickers."

"Yeah, right," Hawke said, rolling his eyes. "On paper, maybe."

“But I looked for that name in all the usual refugee registries,” she protested, ignoring their banter. “Why couldn’t I find him before? If he’s married, he would have had to be on one of the lists, given the history with Qunandar.”

“It’s not his legal name,” Varric explained. “He switched sides during the war, and as a reward got a new legal name and official history. When he married, it was a paperwork nightmare, but luckily his wife had connections.”

“To you,” she said with a wry smile.

“To me.” Varric didn’t bother to sound humble. “It helped, since I knew exactly where to put what pressure to get it moved through the right courts. Anyway, only his friends call him Bull, so he often uses it as a code-name too. My guess is that your father must have been in contact with him via backalley channels.”

“How do we know this Bull didn’t betray my father?” she blurted. “I mean, he was the only one who knew where my father intended to go.”

“Definitely not,” Hawke said immediately. “After he defected, they sent several I&E teams after him. One of those teams almost killed his best friend and did manage to get away with Bull’s daughter.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth for a moment. “They took one of his children?”

Varric nodded. “Yeah. It took over a year to get her back, and she’s recovering from what they did to her. So he hates the Qunari with a passion. He’d never help them, and he certainly never would have betrayed your father to them. But he would be _very_ interested in that data.”

For a moment she closed her eyes and wondered what it would feel like to be free of the burden of her father’s inadvertent legacy. “Do you have a way you could contact him safely?”

“Several, or Hawke could do it,” Varric confirmed. “If you trust us.” Underlying that, of course, was the question that hung in the air between them: _Do you trust me?_

Pressing her forehead against her knees again, she took a long, slow breath and pondered the matter before her. _Do I trust him?_ Carefully she weighed what she knew, and what she’d overheard, and what her instincts murmured deep in her head, trying to find the way forward. Hawke was fun, but she’d only really known him for a few days. Her feelings for Varric were complicated and at times contentious, but he’d never given her a reason to think he was a Qunari agent. Of course, in the depths of her paranoia after their breakup, she’d wondered _that,_ too, and wondered if he’d left because his mission in cultivating her had failed.

But no, it was too elaborate. A truly paranoid mind could concoct a scenario that would make Hawke and Varric both deep-cover agents, she supposed, but she had to start trusting her instincts _sometime._ And they said that Varric was an idiot, but not an agent, and Hawke was...well, himself.

“I do,” she said softly as she raised her head. “For this, anyway.” Varric’s little wince hurt, but she managed not to react to it. “How soon can you arrange a meeting?”

“How long will it take you to retrieve the device your father gave you?” Varric asked. “I couldn’t keep track of you the _whole_ year. For all I know you put it in a bank vault in Minrathous.”

She gave him a strange look. “Yeah, anyone with horns would look a bit out of place in the Imperium.”

“Which would arguably make it a more effective hiding spot,” he pointed out.

Rolling her eyes, she said, “I still wouldn’t want to take the chance. No, the data is in the safest place it could be.”

Hawke tilted his head. “Weisshaupt?” he teased her.

With a wink, she shook her head, then reached up and twisted her horn. Both men’s eyes widened in a most satisfying way as she tugged off her horn and fished the specially crafted data disc out of her horn. “With me,” she said, holding up the small translucent disk.

“I’ll be damned,” Varric breathed. “Clever girl.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly.

“Didn’t that hurt?” Hawke asked, brow furrowed. “I thought your horns were, you know, bone in the middle. Alive.”

“They are. But this horn was permanently damaged on my escape from the Qunari when I was six,” she explained. “It was broken, and then an infection set in. I almost died, according to my aunt. After that, she said she couldn’t bear to see me without only one horn, so she arranged for a prosthetic. I had to get a new one every year or so until college as I grew older, but it’s why my horns are symmetrical.”

“Because one literally is a copy of the other,” Varric breathed. “Genius.”

“Not quite, but I’m used to it now. Most times I forget it’s not real.” She turned the horn over in her hands. “When I was a teenager, I decided I might as well make it useful, and added a little storage area. Enough for a key or some money.” 

“Or the fate of the whole Maker-be-damned Qunari,” Hawke said with a grin.

That made her laugh. “No, I wasn’t quite that ambitious when I was sixteen. I’m not upset, though. I wouldn’t mind it if this thing can actually do that.”

“In the right hands, your father said,” Varric reminded her. “And Bull might very well be those hands. He used to be part of their secret police.”

Her eyes widened. “I’ve never heard of a Ben-Hassrath defecting before.”

“Oh, he’s not unique, but the Qunari are very good about suppressing rumors when they _do_ defect. And Bull was smarter about it than most, doing it in a way that got an entire government to cover his tracks,” Varric said with a chuckle. “All right. I’ll make the arrangements to meet him so we can do the transfer.”

“That doesn’t mean that she’ll be in the clear, though,” Hawke pointed out.

“She will be once Bull and I concoct a believable rumor campaign for the disc changing hands,” Varric told him. “She just needs to stay here a little while longer until that takes hold.”

“Here?” The word slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she blushed when both men’s eyes turned to her. “I just mean...I want to see this through personally, not cower in a hole. If Bull is still hot but knows how to move around in public, then surely I can do the same as long as it’s not traceable back to me.”

“We should be able to do that, right, Varric?” Hawke asked in one of those cheerfully pointed tones that said _you’d better agree with me or else._

She smothered a smile as Varric struggled against what was obviously his first instinct of _hide and protect_ when it came to those he loved. Finally he sighed. “All right, Hawke. I trust you.”

“I think it’s more important to make sure that she does.” Hawke looked at her. “Well? Do you trust me on this, beautiful?”

His use of the term in front of Varric caught him a little off-guard, and she had to bite her lower lip to avoid giggling at Varric’s expression. Still, she had to answer. In this case, however, her curiosity prodded her and made her reply a bit more predictable. “I do.”

Hawke flashed her a grin. “All right. Then I’ll get started.”


	5. Escape into the Light

_Dammit, Hawke,_ she thought for the tenth time as she fought the instinct to tug the top of her dress down to cover _all_ of her breasts, even though it was designed to show an alluring portion of underboob. When she’d agreed that she needed an outfit that wasn’t her normal style, she _didn’t_ think he’d go _this_ far. Instead of her comfortable pants and sleeveless shirts, she now wore a short, sleek black dress with a diamond-shaped cutout that extended from her sternum down to below her belly button, leaving a sizable portion of her torso bare save for two strings crossing her ribcage, presumably to prevent the dress from falling off if she sneezed. She couldn't remember the last time her midriff had been exposed in public--which was the whole point, she supposed. Having her hair arranged in an elaborate style designed to obscure her face was _also_ good as a disguise, but she didn’t have to _like_ it. She was used to her hair being completely out of her way, not falling in elaborate waves around her face and shoulders.

The stiletto heels, though? Those she liked. It never would have occurred to her to wear them, but she liked the extra height they gave her, and once she’d gotten the trick of how to walk in them, she liked the way Hawke and Varric watched her walk in them, too.

Hawke had, of course, taken outrageous advantage of the outfit once already, pinning her against the wall when Varric had left the room to make a phone call. His hands made quick work of her clothing, pushing the top up so that his lips and tongue could lavish her breasts with attention. He did it long enough to tease both her nipples into points, then just as quickly tugged the cloth back into its place of barely covering her breasts when Varric returned. Varric had noticed _something_ had happened while he was gone, of course, and the way his eyes flicked to look at her chest indicated he knew Hawke well enough to know _what_ had happened, but it was too late.

Now, of course, they were at the gala opening of a rather famous artist’s first exhibition in over a decade. The handoff had been arranged to happen while walking around the gallery, with Hawke pretending to be a rich patron who had brought his horned woman toy as a decoration for his arm. She’d noted almost immediately upon arrival that she wasn’t the only one present, since apparently eye-height boobs were a desirable trait in a mistress. She’d even shared an ironic eye glance with another horned lady whose companion wasn’t _quite_ as handsome as Hawke, sharing an eye-roll before moving on to the next cluster of hobnobbing.

The worst part of all the malarkey, of course, was that she actually _liked_ it--the dress, the heels, the posing, the cover story--even if she had to keep fighting the urge to tug the top of her dress down. The way Hawke and Varric had looked at her like she was the center of the world hadn’t hurt, either, if she were honest with herself.

 _I’m still going to kill him when we get back to his place though,_ she thought to herself. _Twice._

Still, if it worked, she supposed she really didn’t have a reason to complain, except for, well, _everything._

“You’re cute when you pout,” Hawke murmured under his breath.

She fought the urge to glare at him, instead taking the opportunity to admire him again. He cleaned up _very_ well, and although his clothing didn’t stand out any more than the other patrons at the party, she liked to think that he was as much eye candy as she was supposed to be. She’d caught as many admiring glances sent his way as directed at her, which had helped to ameliorate some of the more pointed ogling. “And you actually don’t look half-bad without a beard.”

“Bite your tongue. I’m growing it back starting tomorrow,” he insisted with a subtle wink. “All right, I see the man we’re here to meet.”

 _Krem._ An odd name, but she could understand why Bull himself couldn’t be seen in public. His involvement made even more sense once Hawke had explained that he was the one the Qunari had almost killed. She could pick him out of the crowd as much by the slight limp with which he walked as by the straight line of his shoulders that spoke of military training. “I see him.”

 _“T-minus five minutes to handoff,”_ Varric’s voice echoed in her ear through the earpiece hidden in her hair and, she knew, the small earpiece in Hawke’s ear that mirrored the same earpieces the other rich men here wore. He’d hacked into the security camera system, and of course Hawke had added some unofficial extra ones for him to monitor as well. _“I’ve got eyes on Bull’s other agents that are here. Krem’s not alone. No sign of any bogeys.”_

She couldn’t help but smile. Of _course_ he’d want to make it sound a bit more exciting than it hopefully would be. He was _Varric._ They couldn’t acknowledge verbally, of course, but she reached up to tap the earpiece once under the guise of primping her hair to let him know they’d heard.

The next five minutes stretched out with a tension she both hated and respected, trying to funnel the tight energy of the moment into heightened awareness of everything around them. Nothing unusual seemed to happen, and she was able to just smile and simper and occasionally pose for pictures as needed for Hawke’s cover.

And then Varric’s voice sounded in her ear. _“Unknown party not on the guest list just appeared from a side entrance. No horns, but he’s a tall bastard, and might be armed.”_

She felt Hawke’s arm tense under her fingertips, and they both spent a few seconds sweeping the room with their eyes making it look like that’s what they were doing. When she saw the Sten in a well-fitted suit, her blood froze. _How did he survive?_ “There,” she murmured. “Next to the creepy spider painting.”

“I see him,” Hawke said softly.

Shifting their position so they could keep an eye on him, she noted that he didn’t seem to be looking at her or Hawke in particular. Instead, his slow but purposeful movement across the room made it clear that Krem was his intended target. While that was good for _her_ , it wasn’t necessarily good for the mission.

 _He seems to be going for Krem,_ Varric noted. _We could bail without making contact._

She and Hawke met each other’s gaze, and she saw him reach up and scratch behind his ear.

 _Seriously, Hawke? All right,_ Varric said with a sigh. _I’ve let Rocky know, and he’s sending Grim to investigate._

The names didn’t mean much to her, but she felt Hawke subtly relax.

The handoff proceeded exactly as they’d planned, without them getting to within closer than fifty feet of each other. She and Hawke admired a particular painting exactly as they’d admired so many others that evening, and as he gestured the art manager over to discuss a possible purchase, she stepped closer, ostensibly to admire it. It was the work of a moment to transfer the disc from where it was taped on her neck under her hair to taped under the nameplate as she ran her fingers over it before turning back to smile brightly at Hawke and ask if he’d bought it yet. Once that was done, they moved on.

A minute later, one that dragged on through too many loud heartbeats and pounding blood, Varric’s voice burst into her ear. _“Krem has the disc. The bogey is watching, but hasn’t made a move yet. T-minus five to departure.”_

She watched Hawke acknowledge it with another scratch behind his ear, and felt the tingle of _almost there_ in her blood. For another couple minutes, they slowly circled the gallery, waiting until they could leave, when suddenly there was a crash across the gallery, and Hawke swore.

_“Bogey pulled a gun. Krem is unhurt and running, bogey in pursuit. Hawke, you know what to do. Buttons, go to Rendezvous Point 3 to wait for him.”_

“Time for plan B,” Hawke said softly, squeezing her hand.

She swallowed, but nodded as she dropped her hand. In the next moment, Hawke took off across the gallery, towards the sounds of gunshots and breaking glass from which everyone else ran. After that, she turned and made her way as fast as the heels would allow towards the restroom which Varric had designated as the Rendezvous Point 3.

As he’d predicted, it was empty since it wasn’t on the way to the main exits. Slipping inside, she sat on the counter so she could slip off her shoes and massage her feet to work the ache of running in heels away. Carrying them by their slings, she stood and stretched, absently tugging the dress back into place as she waited to hear an update. When the door opened, she turned to it with a smile, expecting it to be Hawke or Varric. 

Once she registered the height of the new arrival, however, the turn became a desperate dive towards the stall nearest the window, but she wasn’t fast enough. A large arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back, and with enormous strength, her assailant turned them and slammed her bodily into the wall. Her head whirled in shock for a moment as a hand reached up to push her head against the wall, followed by a burst of hot breath on her ear.

“Where is it?”

“I don’t--” she started weakly, then whimpered as the hand slammed her head into the wall, sending her thoughts scattering once more.

“No more lies, _bas,”_ the Sten breathed. “I did not almost embrace the darkness of death to be lied to by one lost to the truth.”

“I don’t...have it anymore,” she gasped. “It is the truth, I swear!”

His hold on her loosened ever so slightly. “You did not approach Hissrad’s man,” he said slowly. “We would have taken action sooner if you had. You lie.”

“I don’t!” She struggled for air, banging her hand helplessly on the wall as she added, “Look me in the eyes and see it!”

There was a hesitation, and then he stepped back and pulled her around. Their gazes locked, and she felt the same shiver she had the first time she’d been in a similar situation before with him: that of realizing that her life meant _nothing_ to him if he thought she stood against the Qun. Settling his hand on her throat, he slowly began to squeeze. “Repeat your words.”

“I don’t have it,” she said, saying each word slowly for emphasis, and to stall for time, despite the increasing difficulty of acquiring air under his grip. Still, every extra second was one more instant where she could get a better grip on one of her shoes without him noticing. “It is no longer in my possession.”

His hand stopped squeezing, then slowly relaxed. “You speak the truth,” he grunted. “Then you are no longer of use to me.”

As his hand started closing again, desperation spurred her to raise her shoe and drive the heel into his side with adrenaline-fueled strength. “Let go of me!” she shrieked.

The Sten staggered back with a strangled shout of pain, clutching at his side where the heel had sunk in two inches. Without waiting to see how hurt he was, she pushed past him and to the door, yanking it open and running down the hall in her bare feet, her remaining shoe still clutched tightly in one hand. 

She managed to run uninterrupted for several seconds down the hallway before he caught up with her, his longer stride too much to escape from his body struck her from behind and crashed her to the floor. Her struggles proved to be only enough for her to squirm from her stomach onto her back, which wasn’t particularly an improvement. Now she could see the fanaticism in his eyes much more clearly.

“You have evaded the justice of the Qun long enough, _bas_ and child of _bas,”_ he said through gritted teeth as he grabbed the shoe and tossed it far away. Using his weight to hold her down, he released her wrists and settled his hands on her neck and started to squeeze again. “I will--”

Whatever he might have said was cut short with a roar of pain as she stabbed her false horn deep into the side of his neck, releasing a fountain of blood as she yanked it back out again. In a blind rage, he slapped her hand away, and she cried out as her arm went numb from the elbow down. He returned to trying to choke her once more, though his grip was much weaker as the blood continued to pump out of his neck.

Just before she blacked out, she felt his hands go slack, and his body went limp on top of hers. Suddenly his weight became the danger, and for once luck was on her side, though in the most macabre fashion possible. Using his blood as lubrication, she managed to squirm her way out from under his body and rolled to the side, lying on the ground and gasping for breath as she tried to forget the feeling of slowly approaching death.

When she heard footsteps approach, she looked up wearily, too tired to do more than stare at the horned man standing nearby in the hallway. As he raised his gun, she shuddered, an obscure sense of anger filling her as she realized that all she’d endured with the Sten was for naught.

A distinct twang suddenly echoed in the corridor, and she watched dully as the Qunari slowly fell face-first onto the ground. Her eyes stared dully at the feathered bolt sticking out from the back of his head before they tore away to look up at Varric where he stood a few meters away.

Quickly folding his weapon and shoving it back into its sheath beneath his jacket, Varric ran forward and knelt next to her. “Maker, Buttons. I thought you were--” He snapped his jaw shut, then reached out to tuck some bloody hair behind her ear with shaking fingers. “Is any of the blood yours?” When she shook her head mutely, he released his breath in an explosive burst of air. “Thank Andraste. Come on.” 

Slowly he helped her to her feet, then took her hand and squeezed it. “We’d better get going before the authorities get here.”

She nodded, then said, “My horn. I need to--”

“Got it.” Varric looked around the corridor, then ran over and fetched the horn where it had hit the wall and dropped to the floor, leaving a bloody mark on the wall. “Good thinking. Don’t want them to find that.” 

Bending down, she grabbed the shoe still sticking out of the Sten’s side and then retrieved her other shoe, her hands shaking violently from the shock of the last few minutes. One of her wrists hurt, but the pain was distant as she looked at Varric. “Let’s go.”

The nearest exit took them to an alley where Hawke waited with his van. The sirens of the approaching authorities could clearly be heard, however, as he pushed the door open. “Get in!” Almost before the door closed behind them, the van was in motion, turning down a side street that took them to a warren of small roads. The sirens grew fainter and fainter as they raced away, until finally Hawke eased off the accelerator and flicked off a screen in the dashboard, leaving the interior of the van in the dark.

“Looks like we got away clean. If anyone got the plates, they’ll trace back to a car that was sent to the crushers three years ago.” He shot them a concerned look. “Is that--?”

“Not my blood,” she murmured. The adrenaline had mostly faded by this point, leaving her feeling hollow.

Hawke and Varric exchanged a glance, then Hawke pointed to the glove box. “It’s not much, but there’s some wipes in there.”

When she didn’t make a move to it, Varric leaned forward and pulled out the handful of cleansing wipes, then silently started to use them to clean off the worst of the blood off her stomach and legs. She would need several showers to get fully clean, but she appreciated the effort and closed her eyes as he did what he could. As his hand moved over her body, a different sort of tingling awoke, one linked to that dawning realization that _she hadn’t died._

She was _alive._

As Hawke drove them back to his bunker, Hawke and Varric kept talking, but the words sounded muddled and indistinct as she drifted through a fog of slowly dimming awareness.

"At least I managed to recover the disc in the middle of the chaos," Hawke said. "I couldn't get it back to Krem, though. Too many Qunari."

Varric grunted, though he didn't let the conversation distract him from his attempt to clean her. "Damn. So we'll have to arrange another handoff?"

"Afraid so. At least they all escaped alive," Hawke said. "Most wouldn't. But the numbers of live to dead Qunari didn't add up. That's when I sent you to look for her."

"Good thing, too," Varric said, voice grim. "It wasn't pretty."

"Oh?" Hawke asked, his tone tense.

She stopped trying to parse the words at that point, letting their voices fade into distant buzzing as she let her head fall back. Her world narrowed down to the cool touch of the cleansing wipes, the only layer separating her skin from the warmth of Varric’s fingers. She emerged from her stupor only once, when Varric said her name into her ear. "Buttons."

"Yeah, babe?" The answer was habit and instinct both, and it was only after she said it that she realized it had been a year since the words had last crossed her lips.

Varric chuckled softly, then said, "I'm going to put my jacket over you and take the dress off. Want me to keep cleaning?"

It took her a moment to realize that what he was really asking was if it would be all right for him to touch what was _beneath_ the bloodied dress. Sweet, yes, but a bit tiresome when she just wanted as much of the blood gone as possible. "Please," she murmured.

Soon the warmth of Varric's jacket covered her, and she felt him peel away the dress from her upper body. She felt Varric return to the cleaning, only this time his fingers moved over her breasts, which he well knew were sensitive to the touch--and that was on the best of days. Now, after another flirtation with death, even the brush of the cleansing wipe sent a tingle of pleasure through her, a sensation she welcomed since it was another reminder that she had survived yet again. Though Varric didn't linger, she was fairly certain he felt her nipples react to his touch, and a distant disappointment filled her when his hand finally pulled away for good. The vague discontent stayed with her as she fell into the arms of slumber, enough so that her dreams tipped between terrifying and titillating.

She next awoke in Hawke’s arms as he carried her from the van to the bath, and she lay still as he stripped the remnants of her fancy dress from her body and then lowered her into the empty tub. Turning on the spout, he worked the blood off her body and soaped and rinsed her hair twice, only then plugging the drain so the water would fill the tub. The whole time he didn’t talk, though he did pause to kiss her on the lips or cheek once in a while and call her brave or beautiful.

When the tub was full, he eased her back onto a pillow, then cupped her cheek. “Want me to stay?”

She thought about it in a head that felt stuffed with cotton still, then nodded. “Varric, too.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow, then nodded and left.

While he was gone, she reached up to touch her lips with a smile, feeling the tingle of his kiss still. Her blood surged in ways that should have surprised her, but felt completely natural. Certainly it was _insistent._

When Hawke returned with Varric, she was ready.

“How are you feeling, Buttons?” Varric asked, moving to sit on the side of the tub without care for the water.

She smiled. “Like I’m never going to stop using buttons again,” she murmured. “Dresses don’t seem to really work for me.”

He chuckled. “Good. I’d hate to have to find a new nickname for you.”

“Speaking of nicknames,” she murmured. “Do you call him Snickers because he smirks too much or because he’s a delicious snack?”

Both men’s eyes widened, and then, unbelievably, both men blushed, their cheeks staining with red to varying degrees as they hemmed and hawed and avoided her gaze for a good few seconds. Then Hawke finally burst into laughter. “The answer is yes,” he said as he looked directly into her eyes.

She bit her lower lip, then slid her arm up Varric’s chest until her fingers found and coiled in the springy curls there. “Kiss me.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you su--”

“Did I stutter?” she demanded.

He chuckled. “No. No, you didn’t.” Eagerly he leaned forward, meeting her lips halfway for a kiss.

As soon as their lips met, the heat and passion that she’d always felt with him rose in force, and a soft moan escaped her lips. She felt his hands dip into the water to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples, and she reached up to sink her hands into his hair and feel the stubble on his cheeks. The year they had spent apart melted away, leaving behind only the knowledge that they needed to be together, that they were a part of each other.

As the kiss deepened into something which might be called _devouring_ and _thorough,_ another spark lit in the back of her mind as she realized something unexpected: _it felt like this with Hawke, too._ It had just been so long since she’d been with Varric that she’d forgotten what the feeling meant.

Varric had always loved her. Yes, they’d have to figure out how to get past his hyperactive protective instincts, and she’d have to work on getting Hawke and Varric to stop being idiots about how to express their love for each other, but neither of those challenges were insurmountable.

And right now, she felt like she could take on the world.

By the time their lips parted, a flush had spread over her face and neck, starting a slow spread down to her now tight nipples. A glance back to where Hawke still stood showed a grin on his face and a hand casually rubbing a sizable bulge in his pants, something Varric didn’t notice because he’d already started nuzzling her neck.

With an effort, she pushed Varric away, giving him a soft kiss before pushing him just out of reach. 

His brow furrowed. “Is something wrong, Buttons?”

She smiled and tilted her head, teasingly tracing a circle around one of her nipples as she murmured, “I wish to see you enjoy a delicious snack.”

Varric’s eyes widened for a brief moment as Hawke burst into laughter and raised his hands to his belt. After Varric turned to see Hawke’s pants fall to the floor to show he was up to the request, a wicked grin came to Varric’s face. “Your wish is my command.”

She smiled and settled back into the warm embrace of the water as Varric pounced on Hawke like a cat onto a mouse--or maybe a hawk on a mouse, all things considered. The thought was tucked away for later, reserved for _next time,_ but for now she just enjoyed the sight of the men she enjoyed more than any others enjoying themselves. It was enough joy to lift her to her own release, just as they found theirs. 

And when they eased her from the tub and carried her to the bed large enough for all of them, she couldn’t imagine any greater joy than the bliss they found together.


	6. Epilogue

"No."

"Come on, Buttons. Please?"

"No."

"Why? It's perfect for Satinalia."

"No."

"Look, it may be a bit ugly, but--"

"A  _ bit _ ugly? It's hideous!"

"That's part of the charm. Ugly Satinalia sweaters and all that. It's tradition."

"That's not a sweater, Varric."

"Well, no, but it  _ is _ festive. Look at the lights."

"I can see the lights. Two of them. Nicely spaced apart on the chest. Suspiciously so, one might say."

"Look, it'll be adorable.  _ You'll _ be adorable."

"As cute as a button?"

"Exactly!"

"No."

"Snickers will love it when he wakes up."

"I don't see you giving  _ him _ novelty Satinalia lingerie.*

"Oh, I gave him a novelty Satinalia gift, all right. He's wearing it."

"Varric, he's naked."

"I know."

"...Is that why he's having such a happy time in his dreams?"

"I damn well hope so."

"Where's the remote?"

"I'll give it to you if you wear the lingerie."

"Varric--"

"With the lights turned on."

_ "Varric--" _

"Did I mention there's five levels on the remote?"

"...Hand them over."


End file.
